Duty
by Neetyneet
Summary: Calamity Ganon has fallen, and the fields of Hyrule are quiet once again. Now all that stands are a Princess who vows to resurrect her Kingdom, and her devoted Champion at her side. But not all is as silent as the battlefield. With their greatest foe at their feet, what will Link and the Princess face in the ruins of Hyrule? (SPOILERS: BOTW)
1. A Reasonable Start

**ONE**  
 **A Reasonable Start**

* * *

It's been nearly two days, and I still can't believe I'm here.

Everything is so… overstimulating. I walked the first few miles with my shoes off, but I had to put them back on as the sounds of night filled the field: the intense tickling on my skin, the night breeze, and the hum of the fireflies made it hard to concentrate even on something as simple as walking.

I cannot even think about where I was mere hours ago.

When I'm not watching the moon tonight, or gazing at the spitting fire, my unchecked thoughts bubble up and threaten to overwhelm me. My new plan of action is laid before me, blank as the pages in this diary, and my mind meets me with everything at once, and yet nothing at all.

My heart is full.

For travellers, I know that the night brings danger, but I am basking the light of our recent success.

Link has said very little – which is very like him, I know – but a few times I have caught him on the cusp of opening his mouth and closing it, like a stunned fish. He sets a fire as soon as the buds of nightshade begin to glow.

I'm watching him as he tends the fire. He has dropped a few apples into the flames, and is watching the skins char and peel. He fishes them out deftly with a broken arrow. Behind his back, the mighty belly of his horse rises and falls.

He is frowning slightly, a little v-shaped mark like the head of an arrow in between his brows, like a bookmark for his thoughts. All this time I was worried that I might be falsely remembered, and I had forgotten about this expression of his that I'd come to know so well.

What is he thinking right now? He is impossible to read. And whenever I look for long, he instinctively looks up at me!

My eyes are tired. My notes are starting to blur. Since I started sleeping, I seem to sleep as if I've forgotten what consciousness is, and the morning comes within the blink of an eye.

He assures me we will shortly be at Zora's Domain: to civilisation.


	2. Once a Home

**TWO**  
 **ONCE A HOME**

* * *

A slight change of scenery from endless greenery: some ruins.

Link pauses as we approach them: a brief skip in the regularity of his footsteps and a sideways glance at me. I thought our route had seemed long-winded.

There is a dried up well alongside some jagged bits of stone wall, which stick out of the ground at crude angles, as if the landscape tried to scatter itself. It's no bigger than a house. I stand defiantly in the middle of it and stare into the corner. Someone lived here.

Link watches me. He reminds me again, gently, that a great many things had changed, but I was so distracted by the serenity of open field and the feeling of simply having a body under my control again.

Now, I can't control the shaking. This must be why everything is so _quiet_.

He cautiously urges his horse on.

We walk for a bit in silence as I try not to become overwhelmed. All the time I was trapped, I thought an endless mantra: my friends, my people, my father. Their struggle continued while I was locked in an unbreaking, unsleeping one of my own. I was sealed away in time.

But then, so was my Champion.

He slept while I fought, and then once he had awoken he came to fight beside me. If anyone were to know how I feel right now, it would be him. So why can't I find the words I need?

Once we stop for the night, I swear I will ask.

Link mentions that the Sheikah will know that Ganon is slain. He believes Impa will send a chaperone to meet us, and escort us to Zora's Domain. He does not want us to travel alone together if we can help it, but somehow I feel safer with him than I feel I would even with a band of Sheikah travelling with us.

He helps me onto the horse's back – it is pointless arguing with him – and I think he is concerned that we have yet to hear anything or see anyone.

I am sure I recognise the cliffs in the reachable distance. Secretly, I hope to make it over them without any extra help. I have faith in Link and I.


	3. Ambush

**THREE  
** **AMBUSH**

* * *

Fresh horror. I am still reeling. My hands are barely able to write.

After no sign of anything other than wildlife, we have been sticking to roads, heading for the nearest stable. In the mornings I rise and investigate our surroundings for anything I recognise from my guidebooks; herbs and sweet flowers to press between the pages (I am never quick enough to catch the insects). Link observes me doing this with an inquisitive expression. He said it had never occurred to him to preserve the flora between paper: he stows the herbs bunched together with the flowers, so sometimes flowers with greater potency accidentally infuse with other ingredients in his pack, causing both to be wasted. I have much to teach him!

At Link's insistence, I ride his tamed stallion – Khalil – for a few hours a day, at the height of the afternoon. Though the saddle is too big, and the horse far stronger and brawnier than my beautiful lost mare, it turns out to be mostly advantageous. I find I am still suffering the effects of what I believe to be muscular wastage, and walking seems more tiresome. Khalil seems to like me: despite my first few mounts being less than graceful and aided much by Link, he doesn't mind if I nap against his broad neck, although I can sense at times he is restless. He tosses his mighty head whenever we approach what I can only imagine he thinks is an irresistibly open stretch of field.

I can only thank the Goddess that the ambush happened upon the open field.

When they mount their attack, I hear nothing, but I feel Khalil's muscles tighten like thick ropes under me.

A flash of metal in the corner of my eye, and Link's sword is drawn. I shift my weight to the left, ready to dismount and face the threat alongside him, but Link raises his arm, shakes his head sharply, and lays that same arm against Khalil's flank.

I can do nothing but gasp as the very air in front of us… _sizzles_ , then splits in two – no, _three_ , three winding, slender beings dressed in red and black, with the dreaded inverted eye obscuring their faces. Their sickles sing through the air around them as they taunt my Champion and I.

Link lets out a shrill, sharp whistle and Khalil bolts, my spine arching and rocking as his first leap takes us straight between the middle and the right clansmen. One of the horrific blades slices so close I swear I feel the air against my shin. I turn back and see that one of them is already on the ground at Link's feet, the other retrieving his bow…

I scream a wordless warning to him over Khalil's snorts of exertion: the fallen warrior fades from view into a flurry of smoke and paper that shakes Link's hair and tunic like a stiff breeze. The horse, suddenly spooked, raises his legs and I grip him around the neck before I fall off, my face buried in his mane as paper flies about our heads: the warrior has appeared in front of us!

A second whistle, and Khalil hefts into a turn, and bolts. I slip forward in the saddle, my feet hastily finding the stirrups, and I brace against them as we tear away from our assailant. We hurtle back towards the fray just as Link unleashes a mighty swipe that catches the warrior he faces right across the chest. A second, unmoving figure lies prone in the grass. The third with the bow, on the ground directly between the galloping horse and Link, begins to raise himself to his feet.

I feel the sickening impact as Khalil's mighty hooves make short work of the warrior on the ground. As the wounded one staggers back, Link quickly stows his weapon and throws his arm up without looking. He snatches the saddle and I gasp in surprise as he raises himself up and clambers on behind me.

I can't help but crane my body to glance back: the defeated clansman stands on shaky legs over his fallen comrades, and he is gone as quickly as he came in a plume of smoke.

Wordlessly and tirelessly, Link pushes and pushes our ride far longer than I can stand. Hours breeze by as the adrenaline melts away, until my body aches with the constant motion, and although Khalil doesn't even grunt, I can feel the sticky sweat soaking my leggings, see it streaking down his neck.

"Stop!" I cry, nauseous from motion. After a few moments, Khalil slows obediently to a canter.

I dismount and hit the ground: my weak legs immediately give way and I clatter like a broken ladder. Link's arms are around me, lifting me gently to a stand. My head feels like a giant stone.

He steps away from me as he checks me over, frantically. Am I hurt? As he moves away, his greaves covered in fresh dirt, I see a scarlet, weeping line across his inner arm.

"Let me see!" I demand, as he notices what I have noticed and defensively presses the arm closer to his body. I hold both hands out, refusing to break eye contact until he offers his wrist to me. I pull his arm towards me, gently. The skin parts as the muscle underneath moves – _oh, Gods_ – fairly deep, but a clean cut. Obviously the work of one of those sickening scythes. Khalil neighs loudly at the scent of blood.

I almost collapse against the horse's flank as I raid the nearest saddlebag, fishing out clumsily bundled herbs and tied cloth pouches of still-warm meals. With my back to Link, somehow ashamed of what I am doing even though I am sure I have it figured out, I sniff a crushed herb and rub it roughly against a spare piece of cloth.

"Here." I place a pouch of cooked fruits into his outstretched hand, and then I press the herb-infused cloth against the wound. The corner of one of his eyes twitches, but I see trust within them.

He looks at the cloth-wrapped injury and then at the meal. Khalil tosses his tail impatiently and glances back. Sometimes, I imagine he can speak: " _Go ahead and eat, it won't kill you_ ".

Link raises the pouch and presses it to his mouth, turning his head slightly. He can't be shy now: I've seen him eat so many times, in fact when I was feeling particularly caustic once I compared his table manners to a Bokoblin. Oh, perhaps he is remembering that too. I hear him swallow hard and he wipes his mouth on his wrist.

He thanks me. I almost hoot in his face like a loon – there is nothing he should be thankful for! He saved our lives with intuition, bravery, a horse he clearly has the complete respect of.

I delve in the pack again, finding the last of our apples. These belong to Khalil. I feel a familiar thrill as he turns his head and scoffs the first of them before I can even arrange them in my hands.

Not a single night longer in the open, Link insists. Fortunately, thanks to our relentless riding, the nearest settlement is not far.

* * *

 ** _Many thanks for the kind reviews. I promise later chapters will be longer and a bit less fragmented! Please leave a review if you enjoyed, any comments or criticisms are gratefully received._**

 ** _PS if you can correctly guess who Link's stallion is named after, I'll be mightily impressed._**


	4. Detour to Wetland Stable

**FOUR**  
 **DETOUR TO WETLAND STABLE**

* * *

I can always hear when Father approaches my study.

He is always hurried: his footsteps are not clumsy, but the sound of them gives me ample warning to stash any reading material he may disapprove of. Sometimes, I don't even bother. It seems to make no difference.

I am reading something which is clearly too advanced, as I forget it the moment my eyes leave the page. I stand up from my desk and await my father's entry. One of his guards knocks on the great door.

"Enter," I say, hastily adding "please".

To my surprise, Father is alone – or as can be. His guards wait just out of sight.

"Father." I lower my gaze and bow my head.

"Good evening," he says in a strained tone, eager to dispense with the pleasantries. He is an impatient man. Many times I have heard his booming voice cut a swathe through the empty platitudes of much braver men than I.

"Zelda, you will retire for the night. We leave for the Spring in the early morning."

His words pierce my heart. I swear that I whisper "no", but my father's face contorts as if I have shouted my disagreement directly into it.

"Do I need to stress once again the importance of prayer?"

So this is where our conversation must lead, once again. I long to clench my fists in rage and sorrow, but that would be too obvious: instead I slowly grind the heel of my boot into the carpet.

"Zelda, you-"

"I will, Father. I will take to my bed now."

"-are heir-" He crosses to my desk. Sees the book. Lifts the book between his hands.

"Please, Father, I am-"

"-to our Kingdom-" his voice rolls around my bedroom like a clout of thunder. His back turned, he begins to twist the book until I can hear the spine rending.

"Father-!"

"WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!"

The book flies across the room, over the bed and into the unguarded fireplace. The flames leap up and greedily swallow months of hard work, effort and discovery. The fire crackles and roars.

"Heir to a throne of failure! A kingdom of disappointment!" The fire blazes in Father's livid eyes. I back away from him, around the desk as he advances upon me, pushing me towards the open flames. "As you grow neglectful of your duties, so I grow tired of your contemptuousness!"

Heats lick at my back and the palms of my hands. "I am doing everything I can, and more!"

Suddenly I am choking, falling, and back I roll into the fire.

"Father!" I scream, my arms thrown desperately forward as the flames surge and swallow my body.

And that is how I awake from my first night's sleep in a real bed. Covered in a dewy sweat of shame, with the covers engulfing me like fire, and the curtains on the posts drawn to enclose me in darkness.

Sleep-blind, I slip out of the bed. The sky outside is as dark as the rest of the inn, but strewn with pearly stars. I cross the floor barefoot and almost fall out of the front of the tent. The campfire's embers still glow, and I can hear the horses swinging their heads and tails, grazing. I sit heavily on a dry log and stare out into the night.

I haven't forgotten my father, but I wish my more recent memories showed him in a better light. We were close when I was younger, when our family was whole, but the urgency of the threat to his Kingdom pushed my father, who in turn pushed me.

I feel the occasional sting of resentment, quickly dulled by a cloud of grief. There seems very little sense in raging at those no longer with us.

Link passed my Father's words of regret to me: he was quick to put my mind at ease, and shared his conversations with the dormant spirits of the Champions. I would never have believed in such a thing had it not come straight from his lips: spirits were locked away in the same part of my head as cautionary tales, unchecked myths, word of mouth. I could have accused him of trying to placate me, but I know that Link would never lie to me, just as I know without even straining to hear that he is surely standing behind me, at the entrance to the stables, right at this very moment.

"You don't have to keep your distance," I say aloud, but quiet enough so as not to wake any of the handful of other inn patrons.

Link sits by me, with a concerned expression.

"A bad dream," I explain, nudging one of the smouldering logs further into the embers. The night air is getting a little chilly. Link sparks a flint he has produced from his seemingly bottomless pocket onto the dead coals, and leans behind the log for some kindling.

We sit by the fireside in peace. Of all the friends I've had, I have never found someone I haven't felt the need to keep entertained with endless chatter, but then my life has never been rich in friendly company.

The evening air always makes me think of Urbosa. Whenever I think of someone, I tend to remember them in flashes: with Urbosa I first think of her laughing heartily, hands on broad hips, the top row of her teeth shining like pearls. Then I remember her lightning-fast temper; particularly the day she casually slapped Link about the head for swapping her full cup of water for an empty one as we all dined together – I had been so struck by the sound of her bracelets jangling, the hollow thud of the slap, and Link's shocked expression as she snatched her rightful cup from the table and took a deep swig that I had laughed like a child watching her sibling receive punishment. I remember how she lulled me to sleep after long talks, how she smelt soft and earthy like warm sand, and how once her furious edge was worn down by the presence of more easy-going folk, she became fiercely protective of Link and I.

For that reason, I feel her loss most keenly. I came to know and love each of the Champions, but there was something about Urbosa and I: the talks we shared, the glance that passed between us whenever Link and Revali traded barbs. The budding friendship we had that was cruelly cut away like a thread: one moment there, the next gone, which made the loss so great.

Link asks if I am hungry. I pause, unsure, and as I am thinking he produces yet another apple. Where in Hyrule does he get so many? I never see him raid a tree, like the village children clumsily do.

He tosses it into the fire, and after a few minutes, fishes it out with a nearby stick. It rolls and smoulders in the grass. After a few moments he picks it up, and neatly twists it in half.

How have I never thought to do this to an apple before?! When the flesh is finally cool enough to bite into, it is sweeter than a raw apple, and the skin is coated in its own leaking juices which run out of my mouth and almost dribble down my chin. Link bites into his and absent-mindedly slurps the juice, before looking slightly embarrassed.

I chuckle softly as I take another bite, slightly earlier than my hungry mouth is ready for. Juice spills down my chin and my eyes widen in surprise. Link laughs, and lifts his hand, shuffling closer to me.

The fire suddenly spits, and he stops. He regards his own raised hand as if it was acting completely of its own accord. _Did he mean to-?_

I clear my throat and look away, as if I hadn't noticed his errant hand, and he quickly places it in his lap and tugs self-consciously on the edge of his tunic.

 _What was-?_

I wonder if I am still in some bizarre dream. The apple burns warm in my hand.

 _Now_ the silence is awkward.

I sit and stare into the fire, memories rolling in my mind like ingredients in a stirred pot. Link had joked earlier, before the ambush when we seemed to have time for jokes, that between us we had almost a full set of memories.

Sometimes, I look back on events as if they were stories somebody told me. I remember being there, and I vaguely remember how something must have felt: the pangs of loss, the fear and the humiliation I went through. But I know there is something missing.

What more clarification could I need?

I am eager to speak with Impa. Once my duty to King Dorephan is fulfilled, we will head to Kakariko with or without an escort.


	5. Meeting My People

**FIVE**  
 **MEETING MY PEOPLE**

* * *

I awake to the sounds of someone sweeping, idly batting a brush across the planks, and it is a few moments before I remember where I am. My mind races me through every bed I have slept in since childhood before I arrive in the present.

I part the curtains and step out of bed. A girl my age is sweeping: she nods a greeting and carries on with her work.

I gaze across the row of beds, then cross over to the desk so I can see through the tent doors. There is no sign of Link, and the campfire is long burnt out. Confused, I turn to check the neighbouring beds again: he is not there.

"Oh, your friend left a few hours ago" starts the girl, pausing so she can lean on her broom and tuck a strand of brown hair behind a petite ear. She tucks one foot behind the other. "He said he'd be back."

"Thank you," I say. There is a long pause while the girl continues to watch me. Where did he go? He can't have gone foraging: we have more than enough food.

"He said he'd be back with a surprise."

She collects the little dust pile she has made with the bristles of the broom, and snakes it deftly to the entrance before flicking it out. The particles scatter onto the dewy grass outside.

"Lucky you," she says, with a smile. I manage to smile back despite my confusion. I head outside, resolving to sit on the log until he returns.

"Feel free to use the cooking pot, if you want," the girl calls, just as I am about to sit. She points with the broom to an iron pan, standing against the other side of the log. The pot's legs are embedded in the ground around the fire.

Acutely aware the girl is watching me – as she brushes over the same bit of floor many more times than is necessary – I grab the wide pot in both hands and heft it onto the legs with a clatter. It doesn't land straight, and as I give it a corrective shove the metal whines, making the stable hound bark. There are bits of grass and moss in the base of the pot which I carefully pick out.

I walk past the girl without meeting her eye to collect our packs, and I am surprised not to find them under either my bed or the bed in the far corner, where Link spent the night. I dash out of the tent and around the corner to the stable. Two horses are grazing at the manger, neither of them are Khalil.

I take in a sharp breath.

"He won't be long now," says the girl, now close behind me. I jump slightly; luckily she fails to notice. She looks over at the still wonky pot. "Would you like me to help you light a fire?"

I nod. She turns with a bounce, and heads quickly back inside. Confused, I wander over to the pot and stand by it.

She returns seconds later with a flint in her hand. She crouches in front of the pot in a most ungainly fashion, her knees spread far apart, and she grips the flint in one hand and steadies herself against the pot with the other.

"Kish says you're supposed to do this with a dagger or sum'n else metal," she says, looking up through her untidy fringe, "but it's a load more sensible just to do it against the pot, see?" She rubs the flint against the edge of the pot. Nothing happens the first few times, but after she adjusts her grip and puts a bony knee on the ground, sparks fly and scatter onto the kindling. A small fire crackles up out of nothing and the scent of burning wood fills the air around us.

"That's great," I say, appreciatively. Here is a young woman who, as my Mother would have said, thinks around her limitations. Link always uses a sword to strike flint. In fact, Link uses the sword for nearly everything – to my amusement and occasional irritation.

She gestures to the log, and we sit together. "That'll be piping hot by the time your friend gets back," she smiles.

I chuckle and look out across the woodlands. There are three or four deer idly grazing in the middle distance: the smaller doe perks up suddenly, and the whole group scatters.

"I'm Ashe," says the girl. "What's your name, traveller?"

Just as I am wondering what to say, hoofbeats in the distance make cause us both to look up. The flash of metal at the rider's side is unmistakeable, even at a good half mile away.

"Link," I say, relief in my voice. I squint into the rising sun: is there something following him, alongside Khalil?

"Why does he have _two_ horses?" asks Ashe, shielding her eyes from the sun. "Oh wait, is that one _yours_? It's so beautiful! I've always wanted a white horse."

I hear him cry, urging Khalil into the last stretch, and I see that Ashe is correct: tethered to his bridle, and wearing the regalia of my own Royal Family, is a beautiful mare, almost the image of my Osfala.

"How-" I can only just manage as Link, beaming, dismounts and places her reins into my hands. Everyone awake in the stable, including the few guests of the inn, comes out into the open to see the source of the commotion.

I hold the mare's head in both hands as she turns towards me, shaking herself from the exertion of the trot. With her caring brown eyes and pristine white pelt, she is not quite the horse I loved dearly, but she could be – must be – a descendant.

Suddenly I remember dismounting in the stormy field, my tears mingling with the rain, pressing my forehead to Osfala's and whispering that I would always miss him. His bridle and saddle discarded in the grass as I walked towards the castle gates alone, never allowing myself a glance back.

"Are you alright?" asks Ashe. "You've gone very quiet."

A Sheikah man no taller than Link and I rushes out of the tent, and pushes through the small crowd of people. Marching past Link, Ashe and I, he draws close to both horses and surveys them. There are paintbrushes sticking at artful angles out of his topknot, and his clothes are daubed with dry paint. He performs a double take and a shout at Link, starts as if to speak, and then turns and notices me.

I must be a sight, judging by the surprise on his face. Slowly, he tears his eyes away from me and drops into a low bow.

Seeing his actions, the stable manager gasps and follows suit, grabbing the stable hand standing next to him and forcing them down with him, ignoring their puzzled expression. Before I can stop them, all but Ashe and Link are on bended knee before me.

" _Ashe!_ " hisses the stable manager after a few long seconds. " _Get down!_ "

She turns slowly to me with such a puzzled look that I have to force my mouth not to turn up in mirth.

"What did you say your name was again?"

* * *

 _Many thanks for everyone's favourites, follows and reviews. I'm currently on holiday but I will try to update at least twice this week - and I have plenty of time to work on more!_


	6. The Beginnings of a Court

**SIX**  
 **THE BEGINNINGS OF A COURT**

* * *

Ashe has a laugh which is fairly distracting.

Sat on a cloth covered bale of hay with Link by her side, she is holding the Sheikah Slate, tilting it this way and that, and laughing in bursts every half-minute or so. Every time she laughs, the innkeeper looks up from his paperwork and either tuts softly or rolls his eyes. I can only assume she is laughing at the ridiculous poses Link is striking in the pictures he drew upon it.

Her mirth is so distracting, that after a while, I wave Pikango indoors with me.

"If I may be so bold, your Grace," he says, his head tilted forward on his slender neck and his fingers entwined in nervousness, "I am unsure if it is wise for you to head to the village."

In my head, I can already see the next few days, as clear as the pictures on the slate: get to Zorana on horseback, no stopping. Consult with the King. Two days there, at most. A hard and fast ride down to Kakariko, where I will meet with Impa, and that is where my plan forks off in so many directions that I cannot say which is best. Impa will advise me, I am sure. I explained everything to Link, and he agreed – but now Pikango's differing opinion shows me just how shaky my plans are.

Unlike Father before me, I have no council of Elders, no advisors, not even a soothsayer. After Pikango stopped grovelling long enough to introduce himself, I learned that he had assisted Link in the retrieval of his memories. Anyone as well-travelled and knowledgeable as him would be an excellent asset.

Still, I am wary of making my plans widely known. And I have nowhere now to hold court, since my home – and my kingdom – lies in ruins.

"I do not doubt that brave young man there." Pikango turns his head towards Link, who is now – I am irked to see - flexing his biceps to Ashe's rather vocal approval. It's possible he is just recreating the pose in the picture of him, in front of the sunken skeleton in the sand. "I would lay my life in his hands, as I know you have done on many occasions."

The tips of my ears feel like they're burning. I know what he means, but it feels to me at times as though my life is always in someone else's hands. I nod, and brush my bruised feelings aside: Pikango cannot know my shame.

"But I am concerned about the growing number of sightings of the clan around the area."

Another flash of that horrid mask with its sigil crosses my mind; the crudely inverted mark of the Sheikah. Blank white faces, ghostly pale, so the victim would never know their murderer.

Father always said that to claim a victory over your enemy was to know them; know their weaknesses, even when there seemed to be none. "Even the best suit of armour has a fissure within," he would say, whenever one of his advisors found an insurmountable issue.

I knew Ganon was reckless, and bestial. Like a Bokoblin will fling itself at its foe with a heathen cry, so Ganon threw his might around as if I were a straw doll. He did not expect to lose, which meant he was willing to gamble everything at a chance of winning. That was his downfall. I am willing to bet that the Yiga Clan would follow suit, given their behaviour during our recent battle.

"They are frightened and leaderless," I tell Pikango. "At a show of strength, I believe their forces would scatter."

Pikango produces a brush from his topknot. It goes into the corner of his mouth and he sucks at it, thoughtfully.

"You are right of course, Highness," he muses. "But we have no army. When the Kingdom fell, there were no remaining forces. The Castle town was decimated from within. Then, the corrupted Guardians chased every survivor they could to the very outskirts…"

My eyes glaze over as his words pour out faster, with greater urgency. I see Guardian stalkers; fifteen feet tall, their spider-like limbs, and that sound like a funeral bell when they lock on to their targets. I am standing in the rain, clutching my stomach in fear as three laser sights shine upon us.

Link pushes in front of me, shield held high. One Guardian shoots first: the air around us sizzles as the sight bounces off the shield and shatters part of its carapace, but another two still have us in their sights.

Link lowers the shield, and turns to me with a look of fierce determination. The eyes of each Guardian light up and hum left and right, nearly blinding me.

" _Forgive me_ ," he whispers.

He places both hands on my hips, his fingertips digging in sharply. Before I can cry out, he hoists me upwards and pushes me away. Twin beams of light split the air as I sail backwards, mere feet from Link, as the lasers rip cruelly into his body.

I open my mouth, and anguish pours out.

I land hard on my back and for a moment I am stunned. I push myself up to see him rolling on the floor, his clothing aflame. I race to him and start to pat his tunic, taking care not to agitate his wounds, smouldering holes appearing. The acrid scent of charred fabric, hair and flesh fills my nostrils, making me almost retch.

Somehow he stands, taking my wrist, and he staggers as though intoxicated towards the nearby trees. The Guardians with their bulky bodies cannot closely follow us, although they may try. A hole in his pack leaks his inventory: bottles of elixirs smash on the ground behind us. I scramble to save one that might alleviate his injuries, but he yanks on my arm so hard that I cannot retrieve anything. His grip on my wrist is so tight, and he is panting through the pain.

"No – stop-" I cry. We are far enough into the woods. One of the Guardians searches with its laser, but cannot see us or reach us. It gives up and scuttles off in the opposite direction, back into the fray.

Link lays on the forest floor, panting and groaning. Tears fill my eyes. How could this happen?

 _Because you are powerless_.

I weep openly, but all the time my hands are busy. I tear the pack open to find only broken arrows and useless herbs. I rip the pack wide open and lift Link's tunic – to no protest – and press the rough cloth into a puncture wound on his side. The two laser wounds have cauterised. There is black blood in and around the areas.

I fight the urge to give up and cry. All those years with my nose buried in books, and I can remember nothing. Useless notes race in the front of my mind: how to gut a fish, how to milk a cow, the recent history of Hyrule. Ignoring the lurching in my heart, I think of Mipha, buried within an infected beast right now. She would know what to do. I try to think like Mipha, and place one cold hand over the wound on his left side.

 _Why does my power leave me? Why does the Goddess stubbornly ignore me?_

Link's trembling hands pull his tunic down. He pounds his fists into the ground and raises himself into an unsteady squat.

"Please, you have to stay down-" I say, as he buries the sword in the ground to push himself up. Blood starts to leak from the larger wound on his right side into his tunic. I stand too, and take his face in both my trembling hands.

"Link," I urge. "Look at me,"

He does, although his eyes are far away and glazed with the pain.

"I need you to go. Please just leave – it's hopeless. Your duty to me is fulfilled."

He shakes his head.

"Yes it is!" I cry, tears spilling out of my eyes. "Yes it is. Your duty is done. I'm dismissing you. I can face Ganon – I can face him on my own."

I know it is a damned lie, but I don't care about Ganon and what he will do to me. I care about nothing but the wounded man in front of me, my sworn protector, bound by a stupid oath to kill himself in my name. _My name which means nothing!_

 _I will not see him die in front of me!_

He vows to protect me, through chapped lips wet with blood. He repeats the words spoken only a few weeks before. _Whether skyward bound, adrift in time, or steeped in the glowing embers of twilight…we pray for your protection…_

Trembling, he takes my hands. _And we hope that you grow stronger together. As one._

"Stronger… together… as one," I repeat.

The words seem to give him new life. He straightens up and for a brief moment looks a new man. He grips the sword and starts back out of the trees, towards the flaming battlefield…

"Highness!"

I touch my head, and I am back in the present, reeling in front of a shocked Pikango. He starts forwards with outstretched arms, then slinks back, not knowing what to do. I take a deep breath and re-centre myself.

"Please," I whisper, "tell no-one."

I need to get my emotions in check. I can't keep flashing back to the past every time someone speaks with me.

I excuse myself, and Pikango graciously steps outside. I sit down heavily on the corner of one of the beds and inspect my hands in my lap. As long as I know of forces in my Kingdom that resist, that oppress my people, I believe I will keep having these recurring nightmares: but I know that as long as there are some that will fight as Link and I did, we will cleanse Hyrule of any remnant of evil.

* * *

 _Many thanks again for all favourites and reviews - I am very grateful. Any and all comments/critique gratefully received._


	7. The Champion Festival

**SEVEN**  
 **THE CHAMPION FESTIVAL**

* * *

I am so relieved to get to Zora's Domain.

The sight of the cascading waterfalls seems to wash away a thick layer of stress. I breathe in the fresh air atop Sari, my newly broken and beautiful mare.

After another night at the stables, we left the next morning along with Ashe and her father, and a few young men who offered to come along as support. The men turned up the previous evening, claiming to be travelling geologists, who greeted Link with excitement: he showed them the pictures on the slate, and they became quite rowdy and toasted him with large amounts of wine and food.

Pikango remained at the stable, promising to watch over it. I thanked him profusely before we left.

"May the Goddess go with you, Princess Zelda," he said, bowing and stooping so that the brushes in his topknot nearly tickle my face. I wanted to ask when and if I might see him again, but something stopped my tongue.

Although I am mightily grateful for the company, it does mean that Link and I haven't really spoken privately since that evening at the campfire. He draws Khalil alongside Sari, and smiles at me. I return his smile, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. New reasons to speak to him pop up in my head by the hour.

One of the other horses whinnies, and I stop and sit side-saddle. Ashe, her father and the geologists have dismounted, and they get to their knees and bow. Link does the same in turn.

"Thank you all," I say emotionally. "I am indebted to you."

"What will you do now, Princess?" asks Ashe, springing to her feet before her father can stop her. He palms his face lightly.

I face my band of subjects for the first time, and take a deep breath. _Be stately_ , I command myself. _These are your people_.

"Please spread the word among the settlements, stables and villages," I say with a clear voice, "I intend to restore Hyrule to its former glory. To rebuild my Kingdom, lead my people, and extinguish every last trace of evil."

I have rehearsed this miniature speech so many times in my head that I didn't think how it would sound. Reactions seem to be mixed. Ashe tilts her head in confusion; while one of the young men dabs at the corner of his eye with his waistcoat. Link looks on, rather proudly.

Sudden applause breaks out behind me.

I turn to find the tallest Zora I have ever seen approaching us on foot. He is draped in regalia, has a chest broad as a barrel, and the whitest teeth and smoothest skin I have ever seen. Link whoops suddenly in delight, and then embarrassed, bows low.

"Beautifully spoken, if I may say so, your Highness."

 _Is it-? Could it be-?_

The Zora Prince crosses boldly to Link, taking his arm and wrenching him off the floor with minimal effort. "Don't kiss the ground before me, old friend! We have been eagerly awaiting your return!" He turns to the rest of our party. Ashe's mouth is wide open: no doubt she has never seen a Zora, let alone one as… _handsome?_

"My thanks for escorting the Princess and her Champion safely to our Domain. I am Sidon, son of King Dorephan, and Prince of the Zora. My kingdom welcomes you. Will you be staying?"

"Yes," blurts out Ashe, over her father's polite refusal – clearly he longs to get back to his business. The geologists shrug at each other.

"At least stop to refresh yourselves at the inn?" Sidon beams, his sharp teeth glinting in the daylight.

Ashe and her father accept. I feel that there is something about the Prince's affable nature that makes it hard to say no to him. Sidon flexes his bicep – I wonder if that must be where Link picked it up from? – and beckons us to follow him. Everyone waits patiently for me to dismount, and I take my horse's reins and move on.

Approaching the bridge across the waters, the Zora guards spot us and bow. Sidon instructs them to take our horses, and they obediently seize the reins. I pat Sari's neck and fuss her mane as I bid her temporary goodbye. Link rubs the bridge of Khalil's long nose until his tail flicks back and forth like a metronome.

"Take care of them, please," I call to the guards, who stop and bow again. After all this time, I am going to have to get used to being bowed to again.

The reverence continues the further we get into the Domain. A deep rumbling fanfare sounds as we cross the first bridge, and all the inhabitants turn to see us approach.

"Princess Zelda!" I hear a small child whisper, before he or she is hastily hushed. Everyone drops to their knees. It is very strange to be recognised, but I remember that it is probable that most of the people here might have seen me before – Zora are known to have a much longer lifespan. It is not like meeting Hylians like we did at the stable, where most of my people will have only heard of me by description. I look at Prince Sidon, the muscles in his back flexing as he gestures to his people. He can't be the same tiny Zora child from before, can he? I remember being here with Link and Mipha long ago, trying to figure out the bizarre physiognomy of the Zora; the King must have been a fair bit larger than Sidon is now, and Mipha, although petite compared to Urbosa, was probably... Oh, Sidon must have been quite young when his sister was killed. My heart lurches with regret.

And suddenly there is Mipha, or rather her beautiful effigy, in the centre of the two staircases we are about to ascend.

A notion crosses my mind. "Wait," I call ahead to Sidon, and he turns in puzzlement. I step off the staircase and down to face the pedestal. Mipha's head is held aloft, her gaze pointed outwards to her people. I kneel on the stone before her, and wonder if she can hear my thoughts:

 _Mipha. I am grateful to have known you, and my heart is heavy with your loss. Please bless our visit._ A pause, and then a reluctant addition that I still hope she hears: _And please grant me some of your wisdom and patience._

Footsteps to my left, and Link kneels beside me. I look over at him, and he smiles encouragingly.

I stand, turn to the reverent crowd of Zora, and nod. Slowly, gracefully, they all get to their feet. I turn back to Sidon, who I am surprised to see has tears glistening in his eyes.

"Come!" he calls loudly, by way of composing himself. "Please come and meet with my father, the King."

The rest of our party drops off as I ascend the staircase with Link and the Prince. I look back at Ashe, who tears her eyes away from Sidon for a second to give me a gleeful thumbs-up. I chuckle, hoping her father doesn't notice, or he might have a fainting fit.

As I enter the throne room, I try not to register my surprise: the King sits on his throne, easily ten times the size I last saw him. His colossal frame seems to dominate the very room, and upon seeing us, he beams like his son.

"Princess Zelda," he booms, with warm affection in his voice. "You honour my people and I with your presence."

I bow low again, aware of how I must look, still in my riding gear. Not to mention how I must smell! I wonder if Zora senses are particularly acute?

 _Focus on your duties!_ "Your Highness," I bid the King, "We thank you for your warm welcome."

"And look who it is!" King Dorephan turns his beaming smile to Link. "The Hero of Hyrule!"

Although Link stays perfectly still, the corner of his mouth raises. I witness with glee his inability to accept even the most deserving compliment.

"It fills me with great pride and encouragement to see you both well, so soon after your single-handed defeat of the Great Calamity," he continues, and his face turns sombre at a speed that grips my heart. "Regretfully, I know this has come at a great price."

"I share in your grief, your Highness," I say, suddenly overwhelmed, dropping to my knee once again. Dorephan nods and raises a fin and I stand. "Without the aid of Lady Mipha and the other champions, we would not be standing here today."

I pause for a breath. "I know a little something of loss, myself. It is not something that should be taken lightly. For a century, Hyrule has suffered more losses than either of us can fathom."

Link is watching me. Under his cool, supportive gaze, I feel the words I am speaking will hit their mark. The elders watch me with a great deal more scrutiny; their heads bowed, their brows raised.

"My wish is that our kingdoms will be united again, with the help of yourself and your people."

Dorephan smiles. "We have much to discuss, Princess. But first, we would like to ask something of you."

 _Something…of me?_

"Anything," I reply, pushing the puzzlement away.

"Tomorrow marks the date of our Champion Festival," he began to explain, voice cracking in places, "A festival to mark the sacrifice made by my beloved daughter and your friends. We would be honoured if you would stay and join the festivities."

How could I decline? The impatient part of me, the part I so loathed and tried dearly to repress, was eager to continue with official duties. But another part of me lit up with excitement at the thought of seeing a real Zora ceremony.

"I would love to," I beam. The King returns my smile.

"Then it is settled! You will be honoured with a great feast this evening, to start the celebrations." He turned his great head to Sidon. "Make sure that the Princess and Link are taken to the Royal chambers. They must rest and refresh themselves."

"If I may interject, Highnesses," began Sidon, patiently awaiting his father's nod of approval before continuing, "I would like to thank Princess Zelda for the reverence shown towards our Royal family. It is touching to know that you remember my dear sister as fondly as our people do."

Link suddenly looked somewhat uncomfortable. I realised how hard it must have been on him, having to earn his memories back, one by one.

"Please," he continued, "Allow me to escort you to the chambers."

Link immediately demurred, stating that he was more than happy to stay at the inn, but Sidon was having none of it. He led us out of the throne room by way of a well-guarded entrance I had not previously noticed, and as soon as the three of us were alone together, Sidon's whole demeanour seemed to relax.

"You two must be exhausted!"

Link and I shared a glance, before agreeing with sighs.

"Princess, I would like you to use my sister's room. It has been kept in pristine condition, with only a few additions to accommodate your stay. Link and I will head to my quarters."

A few more paces, and Sidon stopped in front of a large, ornate door. He bowed and moved away, gesturing that I should enter. With a last glance back at the pair of them, I pushed the heavy door and stepped inside.

The first thing I noticed was the bed, a clear indicator of how exhausted I was. It sat opposite a small pool of water – that's right, didn't the Zora sleep upright, in water? How kind of them to think ahead and provide me with a Hylian-style bed.

Before I could take in any more of my opulent surroundings, I lay down on the enticingly soft covers, and closed my eyes for what I swore was a few seconds.

When I awoke, the light had changed. I had barely moved position, so deep had my sleep been, and my head felt a little hazy.

On a marble table behind the pool was a jug of clear water, a bowl of fresh fruits, and what looked to be a bundle of clothing. I walked over to investigate, my footsteps echoing in the empty room, and my hands went straight for the water. I decanted a drink into the provided goblet, saliva rolling over my tongue in anticipation at the sound of the pouring water. It had been so long since I had drunk from a proper cup!

I share my appreciation of Zora architecture from my mother. I don't recall much, but I know she loved the Domain. My father claimed it made him feel cold, all blue tones and sharply carved stone, but I saw elegance reflected in every pillar and beam, beauty that seemed to encapsulate the spirit of the Zora. I wondered idly if there were any Zora architects; how they would feel about renovating part of a Hylian castle.

I scoffed at myself. How could I think about interior improvements when my people needed guidance?!

I picked up the first garment of clothing in the neat pile, and as I felt its soft material, I couldn't help but feel stale. It would be a shame to put such an opulent garment on my body as it currently was. I glanced towards the tranquil pool. Would it be right to refresh myself in what was essentially Mipha's bed?

Running a hand through my lank hair, I decided I couldn't wait any longer. If there was to be a ceremony, I needed to appropriately represent my people. I couldn't spend the whole visit in my riding gear, and I had wished for a change.

I stripped and slipped into the water, finding it refreshingly cool. The pool made me think of my mother again, and the times I had witnessed her preparing at the start of the day, or of an evening when she went to meet with my father. Her handmaids surrounding her, one of them holding me in their arms, others brushing her hair or bringing some tool or other over to aid in her bathing. I wonder if she felt embarrassed, as I did when Father insisted I had my own maids, and they started to follow me around, endlessly bringing me things.

I shook my head, wetting my hair, before dipping the back of my head into the water. The sharp coolness helped to knock away residual fatigue from my nap.

After a few more minutes of languishing, I washed myself as best I could, and stepped from the pool. My extremities tingled in the cool air. I waited to dry, walking slowly around the edge of the pool, combing my hair with my fingers.

I dressed once I had dried. With no mirror to speak of, I looked down at myself – the clothes were a remarkably good fit, assuming they had been made for me ahead of time by Zora tailors, who were possibly not used to making full items of clothing. The cloth was high quality and soft against my skin, and a bright radiant blue like the tunics worn by the Champions.

I pushed the door open to find two blue-skinned guards outside, waiting for me. They bowed respectfully, and in turn I inclined my head.

Excitement suddenly fizzled inside me. I followed the guards, eager to reach the throne room.

Once I did, I was shocked to see that a table had been brought in, placed so that the King was at the head of it. There was no sign of the elders, instead Sidon sat at the right side of his father, and Link to the left. The tips of my ears burned. I hoped they hadn't been waiting just for me.

As I passed the arches of the throne room, I looked down to see that more tables had appeared down in the courtyards, stretching out in a long line with Zora weaving in and out with dishes and plates. Nobody had touched the food yet, and there was a hum of anticipation and excitement. Ornate shell-like lanterns hung everywhere, and everything was the blue of the Champions, or red like the hue of Sidon's – and Mipha's – topscales. _How long had I been asleep?!_

As I bowed my head and sat down, I saw Link had changed, too: he was wearing a kind of elaborate armour. Steel plates shone at his shoulders, gauntlets that glinted in the blue light covered his wrists and arms, and the plating was grouped around what appeared to be chain mail, but as I drew closer to him and stood before my seat at the other end of the table, I realised were layered scales, like those of a fish. Some of them caught the light and glimmered. At his throat was a small pendant inlaid with a larger, more opalescent scale which I thought I had seen somewhere before.

He and Sidon both rose. We all bowed to each other, then turned to the King and bowed low to him.

"The ceremony has begun," he boomed, his voice filling the throne room and echoing out across the domain. "May the feast commence."

A brief, happy fanfare followed his words, and the gentlemen waited until I had seated myself in the high-backed throne before taking their seats. The moment we were seated, various Zora in full armour rushed in to fill the table with various meals. Was it possible we were being served by the King's own guard?

I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen such a magnificent spread. Having spent one hundred years on an empty stomach, and then making do with whatever Link hunted and cooked up, my mouth watered again as silver platters bearing mountains of flaky fish, meat and soft cooked vegetables were laid out in front of us.

I watched the men first: surprisingly, the King did not eat with us, but drank from a goblet that was refilled whenever he put it down. Sidon took a decent amount of food from the plates closest to him while Link's eyes darted with delight across the landscape of food. He took a large cut of meat, then piled colourful vegetables atop it. I prayed he would resist the urge to stuff it in his face.

I reached out towards a tantalising platter of steamed fish to find it being propelled towards me. A tall, female Zora warrior with a diamond-shaped face brought it closer, and with a shaking hand, she slid a fish onto my plate with a nervous, subservient smile.

"Thank you," I said, as she bowed low and backed away. I reached for a plate of carrots and greens only to have the same thing happen again. Every time I made sure to thank the Zora who served me, and to look them in the eyes as I did so.

I had never in all my childhood seen Father thank someone who served him.

By the time my meal was plated, the men were on their second plate. I ate carefully, not able to meet the eyes of my dining companions. I hate eating while I am observed, and I was acutely aware that since the King wasn't eating, his eyes were free to roam. I glanced up to see him watching his subjects as I heard them mingling, scraping plates and clinking goblets behind us.

Sidon shared Link's hearty appetite: he barely looked up from his plate. He even managed a third, and a fourth, and then he picked at a bunch of grapes. Link chased him up until his third serving, where he reclined, one hand across his stomach. I cleared my throat with a small smirk and he sat upright again, stifling a small hiccup.

After we had finished, I was delighted to see that the many plates left – some of them untouched – were carried down the twin staircases for the people to enjoy. I was filled with respect once again. What a kind, generous leader, and a great example to myself.

The King drank deeply from his goblet, and the elder Zora holding the jug of wine refilled it before it had even touched the plinth by the throne. He smacked his lips and beamed down at Link, Sidon and myself. I smiled gratefully, wondering what would follow: surely that was the end of the evening? But it seemed too early.

Excitement danced in the air. The warriors stepped forward, and at equal distance from one another, they lifted the tablecloth from the table and deftly swept it away. I could hardly believe my eyes – the table had vanished! I glanced at the floor, noticing two symmetrical seams that I hadn't realised were there before. The table must have risen from the stone. How ingenious!

Prince Sidon took to the throne on the right side of his father, who gestured for me to take the right. I started forward as gracefully as I could manage, and Link came to stand to the left of me. For a moment I hesitated; then I remembered that, while a revered Champion, he was still not Royalty.

It was a strange thing to be reminded of, when in fact I think of him as my equal.

Just as my brain launched into the finer points of the Hyrulean caste system, I noticed more Zora climbing the stairs – musicians this time, judging by the instruments they were carrying, and their fine dress: headscarves for the women, and head jewellery not unlike Prince Sidon's for the males.

"Ah!" Cried the King suddenly, making me jump and turn. "My favourite part!"

The musician closest to us – a drummer – caught a beat, and the night was split with cascading music, filling the domain with triumphant sound. It was a steady, almost martial piece, and I tried to nod along. I had absolutely no gift for music, and I thought of my lyre which was probably laying in the remnants of my castle. I secretly hoped it was broken.

Sidon leaned forward from his throne. "This piece is the Fanfare of the Zora," he explained to a patient Link and I. "It is our battle music, but tonight it is played to mark great triumph."

"We are proud to hear it," I said. Sidon pulled a face and I rudely almost laughed. Perhaps he wasn't so fond of the music?

The song ended with peals of applause, echoed politely by we of the court.

I thought that must be it, but almost immediately afterwards the musicians turned as one to face the throne room, and began to play a piece that was a lot livelier, to Sidon's barely concealed delight. He rose to his full height and flexed his muscles with vigour. "Now, this is more like it!"

To my amusement, he crossed to me and held out his hand.

"Would you honour me with this dance, Princess Zelda?"

A blush warmed my cheeks. Once again, I felt overwhelmed and unable to refuse.

I placed my hand demurely in his and he bowed low, pressing it to his lips. His skin was cool to the touch. I was suddenly all feet, and a bundle of anxiety sat low in my stomach: it had been years since I had danced! Of course, it was all a part of my upbringing, until more pressing matters arose, and then it suddenly wasn't. And try as I might, I couldn't suppress the childish thought: a Prince had never kissed my hand before.

As we crossed to the throne room under his father's gaze, I wondered how Sidon and I were ever meant to dance: he was almost twice my height. It was going to look comical: if I looked straight ahead, I was looking at his belt, and- _oh, goodness me_.

Sidon seemed to anticipate my outpouring of nerves, because as we respectively bowed and curtsied, he simply said, "Follow my lead."

He took me by the hand, and stepped neatly forward, passing me under his broad arm and twirling me as I went. We peppered our dance with lots of passing and twirling, and very little bodily contact. Bystanders, members of the court, clapped politely every time we executed a slightly varying or difficult step: sometimes Sidon would arch his back and slick past my face with a dip before straightening up again with a flourish. He danced like he was swimming through the air. At one point, he passed me under his arm, caught my hand with his other hand, and dipped and whirled around me so deftly that for a moment I thought I saw two Sidons.

As I laughed appreciatively at Sidon's antics, I caught Link watching us. Watching _me_. His expression was the same as it was whenever we had met a fork in the road on our travels, or when he couldn't get Khalil to perform a trick.

He felt my eyes on him, and immediately his brows lifted into a more neutral expression, but I'd already seen what he didn't mean me to see.

The music ended after a long note, and Sidon and I held our last pose. I burst into peals of nervous laughter from the pit of my stomach over the following applause, and as we bowed to each other once more I could honestly say it was the happiest I had felt in a long time… despite Link's strange look, which threatened to niggle at my head.

We sat ourselves down, just as the King boomed: "And now, with the commencement of the opening song, I declare the Champion Festival begun!"

Suddenly, more Zora poured into the throne room as lively music played. They began to pair off and dance as Sidon and I had danced, but faster and with more abandon. The King clapped and slapped his fins, laughing. I hoped I wouldn't be expected to join in: I was still full from the feast, and my leaden feet wouldn't keep up. Thankfully, Sidon remained seated, and thus so did I.

A gaggle of young women – or so I believed - suddenly appeared. The group parted to let one in the middle advance towards Link and I, and one encouragingly shoved her in the small of the back as she hesitated.

"Princess Zelda," she asked timidly, dropping so low in a bow that I was worried she might smack her face on the stone floor. The elongated fin on the back of her head swung over her shoulder as she lowered herself. "Would you do me the great honour of…of permitting me to dance with your Champion?"

I look at Link as he gazes back at me, waiting patiently. I cannot think quickly of a reason to say no.

"Of course," I say, waving my hand towards them in what I hope is a gracious, nonchalant manner.

With a quick nod of thanks, Link steps away from my side and takes the hand of the Zora. Right in front of me he stoops and kisses her hand, mirroring the gesture Sidon and I shared. I notice that her knees knock together as he does so. He leads her past a few other dancing couples and towards the centre of the floor.

I am restless for the remainder of the song. With so many couples crossing the floor, the beautiful architecture, and Sidon sitting mere feet across from me, I can't seem to think of a better thing to occupy my time with than Link and his Zora partner. I can't tear my eyes away from them. I'm sure it's because I had never seen Link dance before. He is nothing like Sidon, who seems to add flair and flourish to his regular moves, instead he showcases his dance partner, who is only a little taller than he is. She moves well enough, but Link makes all the right shapes and holds as she twirls around him.

I realise their mouths are moving at almost the speed of their steps. They're talking very animatedly, and in fact, they even pass conversation with the passing couples around them. My ears and neck become very hot, and I guiltily try to remember the last time we properly spoke.

I recall with some shame that it must have been just after our climactic battle, when I asked if he truly remembered me. In the hours that followed, we walked through the wrecked castle town as he spoke of his quest to retrieve his memories, aided in no small part I realise by Impa and Pikango.

"Prince Sidon," I find myself asking, "Is there somewhere in the Domain that you would recommend for a private walk?"

Sidon rests his chin in his upturned hand, balanced on his thigh. "Sometimes I like to stroll along one of the bridges," he muses. "Would you like me to accompany you, for… safety?"

"I will wait for a moment," I answer with a glance at Link. "And thank you, but I should like a brief moment to myself, if I may."

It is assumed that I mean for Link to accompany me – after all, he is my protector. I wait until the song has finished and he has bid his partner goodbye with another bow.

"I would like to take a walk," I blurt out before he has barely reached me, and he nods.

As we step out, the night air is cool. I wish I were wearing some kind of outer garment, and I pray I don't start to shiver. We walk down the bridge, and I gaze into the water underneath, while I wait for the words to come.

Link waits patiently as well. I wonder if he expects me to say anything.

Why is this so excruciating?! I have been through every difficult experience with him, coming out of resentment right to the other side. I race through my memories as if I am flicking through one of my reference books, but I am left wanting. Vignettes of us flash up in my mind's eye: him saving me from the Yiga at the oasis, the moment when I started to see him as less of a reminder of my own failure. The moment in the woods, facing down the Guardian stalkers. Brief flashes of action that I don't recall, and must have somehow observed during some kind of out-of-body experience, but I don't know how that would make sense…

"I was thinking," I begin, not untruthfully, "of inviting Prince Sidon to accompany us to Kakariko."

 _Yes, that will do,_ I think. _Now say something else._

 _Something else._

 _Time is of the essence!_

I scramble for ideas, growing impatient with myself. _Compliment his dancing!_ No, that would sound stupid, and imply I was watching him. _Talk more about Kakariko! And say what, exactly?_

A serene voice cut through the madness inside: _He is your friend. Just_ talk _to him._

"The Zora really are a fascinating people, aren't they?" I turn to him, my dress billowing in the breeze, and open my hands. "I am so surprised by Prince Sidon, most of all."

Link smiles and agrees. He tells me that Sidon is one of his closest friends outside of the Champions. He then tells me that the Zora girl he danced with was an old friend, and he hadn't seen her since childhood – not properly, anyway. Suddenly, he is telling me a story about racing along this very bridge with her and Mipha before sliding into some pottery and gashing his hand. Mipha patched him up straight after, but he opens his palm and shows me a silvery scar.

I am keen to reach out and touch it, but I refrain, aware that guards are stationed at each end of the bridge, and I wouldn't want them to witness such familiarity. He runs his thumb across it and smiles.

I feel relieved and foolish all at once. If I'd only thought to talk to him as my friend, as he is, I wouldn't have filled my own head full of such nonsense. It's comforting to see he views the Domain as he does: a place of comfort, and refuge. I pray that we will always be welcome here.

As the night grows darker and cooler, Link suggests we head back. The musicians have dwindled in size, and the music has moved to a more tranquil, background tune. I am suddenly very tired, lulled by the swaying, swooping melodies.

Once back at the throne room, I politely excuse myself, thanking Sidon and the King. Sidon looks a little disappointed as we leave, but he inserts himself back into the festivities as soon as we have traded bows.

Link walks me to Mipha's room in a more comfortable silence. I thank him at the door, and then wearily push it closed.

Once again the warm bed calls to me, and I am desperate for it. As I undress, draping my garment in a loose fold over the foot of the bed for tomorrow, I wonder idly if Link will stay at the inn with my other subjects. My last thoughts for the night are wondering if they enjoyed the feast, and what the rest of the Champion Festival will bring.


	8. An Incident at the Lake

**EIGHT**

 **AN INCIDENT AT THE LAKE**

Let it always be said that Zorana has the most beautiful views.

The Festival continued to great fanfare, and I felt that I could not interrupt such an important cornerstone of culture to speak to the King about trivial matters. However, not to seem ungrateful, but I am a little tired of feeling like I am on my best behaviour.

After our visit to Vah Ruta proved disappointing to everyone involved - the great stone beast refused to yield to Link, even when he tried to enter it again with his Sheikah slate, and it remained as still as a statue - Prince Sidon recommended a rest period while we decide what to do next. I worry that Link's slate has become damaged, and I wonder if Impa would be kind enough to take a look at it, when we arrive at Kakariko.

The Prince accompanies Link and I to a place known as the Landing, which was used by the Zora Royal Family as a vantage point out across the lake. As I sit and try to take in the landscape, Sidon regales us once more with the battle against Vah Ruta.

He clearly adores Link like a brother. Link says very little, not even correcting when Sidon hyperbolizes, but there is a distant smile on his face. I don't believe he is even listening to Sidon: his eyes look out across the lake, watching the rippling water, remembering something fondly.

Watching him, I know that I feel something I cannot put a name to. I feel the same when I think about some of the memories I cannot seem to grip: the ache of something missing, or something slipping away that I have no power to hold onto.

Sidon finishes his tale with a flex of his muscles, and I applaud politely. I catch Link shake his head with an amused smirk.

"May I ask, Princess, what your short-term plans are?" Sidon asks, with a slight bow of humility. "We welcome a longer stay with us, or we would happily arrange an escort to your next destination?" He stretches and rolls his head, flexing his slender neck. "Your accounts of the increasing presence of the Yiga trouble me."

I shudder at the mention of the Yiga. I struggle to get past the image of the eerie masks they wear whenever I hear the name. I know my plan, but for some reason I idle with telling Sidon.

"Will you excuse us, your Highness?" I ask. "I have been suffering from muscular weakness for a time, and I hoped that swimming in the lake would help recover my strength a little."

I stretch a hand across the glorious view. "I hear the waters of your domain are rumoured to have restorative powers," I say, with a gracious smile.

Sidon bows deeply, still taller than both of us even at half the height. "I highly recommend it, Princess. Would you like me to provide some assistance? Of course, not myself. There are a few women of the Domain, strong swimmers, who-"

I graciously stop him before he gets too flustered. "Thank you. We will see you shortly."

Link stands guard from far away as I undress, taking off all but my undershirt and leggings. The stone cools my feet and I sit down on the edge of the deck, dangling my legs into the water, almost squealing as the cool water soaks the fabric. It's bearable – certainly preferable to being caught in a rainstorm. Link's head turns slightly as I slip into the water, holding the side for a few seconds as my nerves twinge with the shock, before I start to make broad, gentle strokes in the water.

I can feel the benefit of being in the lake already. Suddenly I am free of the fatigue, and my strokes get broader. I remember what it was like to swim, and I wonder how long it has been since my last.

I think about how it feels to float, weightless, and without warning my mind takes me for a wild spin, and imprisons me back in Ganon's clutches.

I see the beast whirl towards me, the remnants of humanity tattered around it like the ragged flesh around the almost-human skull, and the roar hits my whole body, rattling my bones like a cage. I raise my palm, the might of the Goddess within me, and the beast surges towards me, unhinges its jaws…

The cliffs of Zorana lurch sideways along with the skyline. My left leg, seized with cramps, turns into a dead weight; my eyes roll back in my head, and I feel myself slip underwater.

The books I read tell me that I wouldn't realise I was drowning, if I ever did. It would feel like falling into an intoxicating, all-consuming sleep, just as I did as the beast's jaws clamped around my body, bathed in light. My hair and dress billow around me as I hear the stifled rush of water. My lungs start to burn, but I am paralysed.

I open my eyes in shock with the sudden, unexpected pain, and to my surprise I see Link's face.

There he is.

Always at my side, even in death.

My eyes widen in terror as I wind back to the moment life left him, and I hear again the soft rattle of his last breath in my arms, and the pain in my heart which was still far greater than the current pain spreading from my lungs, infecting my brain. Now I remember, in my final seconds, the seething horror as I gripped him while the rain hammered us both.

The sword spoke to me then. As I sobbed over him, the sword made me picture the Shrine of Resurrection, gave me a vivid image of him resting, bathed in the pool. I remember it now.

My dying mind thinks it will all be for nothing. At least I see my Champion before me.

My mirage grips the back of my neck firmly. His face tilts, draws rapidly closer to mine, and with his mouth, he forces my lips open and pushes a warm breath into me.

I take a huge gasp, sucking the air from him, and he kicks his legs to bring us to the surface. Our faces pull apart and break into the cold air, spluttering and gasping. I almost roll under again, but he has me around the waist, and with a few deft strokes from him we are at the surface of the deck. My hands slap the stone as I struggle to pull myself out while breath still eludes me. He is up on the deck in a flash and pulls me up.

He scoops me up from the floor and races me under the canopy, laying me flat on the reclining cot. Frantically, he kneels beside me just as my breaths roll in and out of me all to quickly. He holds me as I almost reel and slip off the cot, gently easing me back on. He urges me to breathe in, and out. An instant headache crushes my skull from within.

He supports my head, gently lifting my eyelids with his finger and thumb. My eyes spin in their sockets.

 _Focus!_ I think. I meet his eyes, find the anchor point, and start to breathe more deeply. My legs, twitching and jerking with cramps, start to relax. I rub my bare feet together, two times up and down as I breathe in, two times up and down as I breathe out.

Water drips from his face onto mine. He is stern, and he barely blinks, watching me as if both our lives depended on it. I pant into his face, barely registering anything but my urgency to regain control of my body and mind.

He grips my wrist, counting my pulse without breaking his gaze. I close my eyes briefly, blocking out the sunlight, and when I open them again, the lids feel ten times heavier.

Hours seem to pass, and eventually he asks if I am alright. I croak out a feeble 'yes'. He helps me to sit up, and I can see the waters of the lake are utterly tranquil, as if to imply that what just happened never could have.

"I'm sorry," I pant, realising just how much it hurts to breathe. "My legs-"

I daren't tell him about the memory of the Calamity, or of his last moments. He must remember too, even though he hasn't mentioned. _Though how would you even begin?_ I think, breathing heavily through my nose to see if the pain might lessen.

He gently lays me back down, holding his face close to mine as he listens to my breathing. Once he is satisfied, he sits back onto his feet in a low kneel, still holding my wrist.

I drift off into unconsciousness.

When I awake, Link is still by my side. The light has faded and it is dusk.

The first thing he tells me he shouldn't have let me sleep: he should have gone to fetch help from someone, but he couldn't bring himself to leave me. He didn't think to sound an alert, or fire arrows, or even shout.

He looks so tired and ashamed.

I feel like I've been thrown roughly against a hard surface: my body feels internally ravaged and my head still throbs, but at least my body and its aches are my own again. Briefly, my mind flashes to my century-long imprisonment, but one look at Link's fearful face and I am back in the present.

I hold my hand out and catch the back of his neck, pulling him near to me, our heads as close as they were under the water. I press his forehead to mine and shut my eyes, the closeness of him soothing me, and we hold each other as the light ebbs from the lake.


	9. The Engagement Gift

**NINE**  
 **THE ENGAGEMENT GIFT**

* * *

Ever since the incident at the lake, Link has worn his Zora-forged armour.

After I had recovered enough to stand, we headed slowly to the throne room where I made my apologies, claiming the swim had tired me out. I tried not to show how reluctant I was to be led away from Link, back to Mipha's chambers.

It was just another night since our reunion that we had not slept in the same place together, but this time, it seemed far more noticeable. Not that I even noticed his presence at times, since my sleeps were so deep, but I realise that I probably slept so well because I knew he was there. I tried to fool myself that he was waiting just behind the heavy door, and it was by a small act of mercy that I finally drifted off.

In the morning, I noticed the armour. I'd seen some of the King's guard wearing it, so it should not have been so unusual, but it looked completely different on a Hylian. The shimmering outfit was intricate, yet it offered complete coverage; if he had been in water, I'd have had trouble noticing him. And If Link noticed me staring, he didn't let on.

We met with the Court in the early morning, after a light meal which I pushed politely around the plate until someone graciously took it away. Unusually, Link didn't eat either. Even Prince Sidon noticed, and gave the almost untouched plate a few odd glances.

I cannot ever thank the Zora enough for their kindness. I know that our pasts have not always intertwined smoothly, but now, free from the shadow of the Calamity, we are united. I say as much to Sidon and his father.

Sidon tosses his head and laughs good-naturedly. "I am indebted to you, Princess, and to your Champion. And I am proud to call you both my friends, and friends of the Zora people."

The Zora elders murmur their agreement, bobbing and bowing like flowers in the breeze. I bow deeply to the King, who inclines his great head.

"We will make arrangements for your travel to Kakariko village," he insists. "You will be accompanied by my most proficient warriors. I only wish we could do more, and hope that we will meet again soon enough."

Our visit complete, we both bow deeply and leave. Sidon insists he will walk us to the quarters. I plan to change out of the stifling regalia and back into my travelling outfit, reminding myself to find alternative clothing in Kakariko.

I glance again at Link. I wonder if he will change, or if he will remain in the Zora armour.

"Forgive me," interjects Prince Sidon after politely clearing his throat, "But I couldn't help notice you admiring the armour your Champion wears, Highness."

"It is most beautiful," I enthuse, trying to cover up my spreading hot blush as fervent admiration. "I would like to meet with the craftsman, if I may, to pass on my respects."

Sidon laughs softly with his eyes closed, and his face turned away for a moment. He and Link exchange a brisk glance. "I am sorry Princess, but I am afraid that would not be possible."

"You see-" he pauses as we reach the bottom of the staircase, and gazes down below at the back of the magnificent effigy in the heart of the Domain: "The armour was made by my dear sister."

Mipha – the Princess - made Link's armour? I am mightily impressed, but the finished product seems to emanate her elegance, and no doubt she made the task of creating it look effortless.

"Long ago," Sidon boomed, kicking off into storytelling mode, "A Zora King – one of my ancestors – was preparing for battle. His wife prepared his armour, and as a token, she incorporated one of her own silvery scales into the armour's plates. One morning he and his men were ambushed by Lizalfos, and as one of the beasts advanced on the King to deal the killing blow, the light reflected from the Queen's scale and blinded him, allowing the King to run the monster through!"

Sidon made a grand swordplay gesture, lunging forward. The children playing in the fountain squeaked with delight at the Prince's antics. I laughed as he holstered his imaginary sword. It was hard not to smile at Sidon's boundless energy – so why was Link smirking?

"Is that a true story, your Highness?" I asked.

"It certainly is," answered Sidon, folding his arms. "It is written on one of the many stone tablets around here that tell of the legends of the Zora people."

He paused, unfolded his arms, and turned back to glance at the statue.

"And that is why every Zora Princess crafts the ceremonial armour, as a gift to her future husband."

There was a sudden loud splash: one of the children had pushed the other over. Sidon whooped and rushed over to scoop the mortified little one up, and her expression changed to smug delight the moment she found herself in the Prince's arms.

I was glad of the splash and the distraction. It gave me a few seconds to rearrange my face, and to quickly process the barrage of thoughts that shot clean through the space between my ears like an arrow.

Filled with something like hot rage without any direction or reason, I concentrated on the east cliffs. I felt invigorated, like I could suddenly barrel vertically up them, if only to put some distance between myself and the two men.

Something niggled in my brain. There was something Mipha tried to tell me once; something she seemed to find hard to say. Where was it? What was I doing? I balled my fists, trying to squeeze the answer out of the air around me.

"Excuse me." I turn back and I head up the steps, hoping that for once I am not followed. My footsteps take me level with the throne room; I see the elders and the King, and I realise that I cannot just barge back into the throne room with no purpose like a pouting child. I turn neatly on the next step.

Of course, Link is almost right behind me. _Sages and Saints!_ _Can't I have a moment – just one moment – to compose myself?_ I dash past him, brushing against his arm as I race down the steps, past Sidon and the children and back on myself so that I am under the stairs I have just descended. I bolt left, take four or five strides and then turn right, and I am suddenly in the general store.

Link comes down the stairs. Even though the stairway is so bathed in the afternoon light that it makes a shadow of everyone passing, I can tell it is him from his gait, his frame and musculature, enhanced even more by the form-fitting armour.

I feel suddenly queasy.

There is nobody in the shop but the shopkeeper, a young Zora girl about half a foot taller than me. She tilts her head quizzically, then stoops into a small bow.

I press a finger to my lips as I find the counter with my back, sinking down to the floor.

The shopkeeper's eyes dart from me to the stairs, and back to me. Suddenly she looks out of the door, trying pointedly to ignore me, and then finally her eyes wander back to her work: ice-tipped arrows she is bundling together in numbers with string.

I am beyond furious with myself. Here I am, heir to the throne of Hyrule, hiding from someone behind a shop table!

And hiding from _what?_ The man who saved my life, less than a day ago? The man whose life I had saved and prolonged, so that we could be reunited?

The shopkeeper fumbles and drops an arrow. It clatters along the floor, the tip pointing directly at me like an accusation. The Zora girl bends, her eyes wide, muttering a silent apology as she retrieves the arrow and adds it to her bundle again.

The blade, pointing towards me… I remember holding a blade, sinking it deep into a sunlit pedestal, promising the guardian spirit within that its master would return for it…

And now I know what had I said, and what I had left unsaid.

"He's climbing back up the stairs," says the girl in a small voice, her face pointing down at her work but her eyes looking at me.

I bring myself forward onto my knees. The adrenaline sapping out of me, I can feel my aching lungs again. I wish dearly that I could stay here, on the ground, left mostly alone. Maybe the shopkeeper wouldn't mind.

I stand carefully, and dig in my pouch. Then I place three gold rupees on the counter, as the girl moves her hand from pile to pile.

She gasps. I press my finger to my lips again.

"Please," I whisper, as I find myself unwittingly confiding in someone for the second time, "keep that to yourself."

She nods, and closes her hand over the money. She bows her head again and I smile one of my polite, stately smiles: a smile behind which there is absolutely nothing.

I walk out of the shop. A quick glance behind – Link is still ascending the stairs, slowly, looking about. To keep away from him and the Prince for much longer would cause questions to arise that I do not have a good answer for. I walk down to the pedestal, intending to walk right around it unseen and up the stairs the other side, so it seems as though I have gone for a brisk walk around the plazas, admiring the fountains. If I can stick to that plan, I'm sure I can make an almost graceful recovery.

 _Don't look up, don't look up_ , my heart pleads with my eyes, but of course I do. I glance irresistibly upwards as I pass the beautiful statue, my eyes drawn like a magnet to the carving: a tribute to the woman who loved my Champion.


	10. With a Zora Escort (Prince Sidon)

**TEN**  
 **WITH A ZORA ESCORT**

* * *

 ** _Prince Sidon_**

* * *

As I look over the vast, green countryside, I wonder: why don't I leave my home more often?

It is truly stunning!

I must stay close to the river, as the cold breezes dry out my skin, making it appear colourless and dull. I dive as much as I can. It is important to keep moving, to keep my vitality.

I love to dive down into the river and snatch a fish from its little journey, as easily as Link snatches the fireflies out of the night air, and presents them to the Princess. I too enjoy presenting her with what I find, and watching her eyes widen.

She is so funny. Her eyes and mouth grow at the same rate when she sees something interesting, and she gets out her little books and makes notes, her tongue poking out of her lips like the folds from the clasp of an oyster. Link rolls his eyes when he sees that book coming out of her pack. And she likes the disgusting parts! Pulling a dead fish apart, the innards on her fingers like streamers, squeezing and poking and pinching and squealing with delight.

I have never met a woman who is anything like her. The girls in Zorana are nice, but... No, I suppose that is as far as that goes.

She won't tell me what her plans are beyond the village, but she listens politely to my stories, and even when I'm being over the top and boisterous she seems to meet me with patience.

Occasionally I stop and wonder how far I am from home, and my people. Looking at her, I can't imagine how she feels: her people are everywhere and nowhere, and a lot of them have yet to meet her. And she has no home; no castle.

I am glad on many counts that Father has kindly offered to host the Princess - and whomever she would like to bring to Zorana – at any time. My sister's room and quarters have laid empty for far too long, and I feared Father's obsessive behaviour was bordering on unhealthy. At least he drank happily at the Champion's Festival.

I feel like there has been a lot of festivity missing from my two friends' lives of late. Link and I have talked at length about the threat upon the Princess' life, and the fearsome-sounding clan... Was it Yiga or Yiva? _Pay attention next time, Sidon!_

I wish I knew what had happened to the Princess all those years, while I was growing up, but I know she will not tell me yet, and to ask her now would be a great leap out of line. But, like that oyster she sometimes resembles, she is opening up more each day. I can see beyond her elaborate ceremony to the girl – or should I say, woman – within.

Link confided in me just before we left. He does not believe the Princess has all of her memories back either, much like he has not fully recovered his. This is the reason that he is keen to get her to Kakariko Village: to speak with the Sheikah there. He believes they will help her, though quite how, I do not know. The Sheikah are a complete mystery. I remember the Link from a century ago talking about them with my dear sister, but I know I must have never met one - why would they ever come to Zorana?

I come back from my morning refresh to find Link and the Princess gazing at a piece of bright red streamer, or something. Their faces are stone.

"What's happening here, my friends?!" I clap them both on the back, taking utmost care not to be too hard this time. They both turn to me.

"This," spits the Princess, crumpling the paper in her angry little fist. "This is a sign. Yiga are around here."

 _Aha, so it was '_ _Yiga_ _'_. She and Link are both furious, judging by the sharp, matching lines across their foreheads.

They look so worried that I order my guards to ready their weapons. They all grip glinting spears, enclosing the three of us in a tight circle. The air, filled with birdsong, begins to hum...

The Princess shrieks as a strange cloud of smoke belches from nowhere. An imposing figure, about my height, strides out of the cloud; clad in blood red, with a faceless mask, brandishing a giant blade.

As I cry to my warriors, unsheathing my knife, the silhouette of the giant splits: two willowy figures step from the shadow, wielding blades that look like instruments of torture.

"Not again!" cries the Princess, and the urge to fight grows strong in my belly. I nod at Link, who has his blade ready. _The big one will be mine_.

I omit a roar, louder than a waterfall up close, as I close the distance between myself and the huge warrior. My troops scatter, placing themselves between the smaller foes and the Princess, while Link is firmly forcing her up onto his horse, and leaping on behind her.

Rudely, my foe does not engage me. He steps slowly as if I am not any threat, both hands steady on the long blade. I nip and dart around him, but without a look at his eyes, I cannot tell if I am distracting him. Suddenly I hear the air splitting apart before I see the blade swing.

With an upward thrust of my arm, I meet the blade with my knife, and I begin to force it upward. My foe's unflinching face must be a picture behind the mask! He has clearly never fought a Zora before, let alone the Prince of the Zora!

"I will be your end, Yiga!" I cry, swiping forward with my knife, as the foul beast swoops backward in a jump no man his size should be able to make. "Full of surprises, though you may be!"

Link and the Princess race behind us, riding his black stallion away from the fray. The Princess glances back at me with terror in her eyes. For a moment, I allow myself to be distracted, and the horrid blade nicks my waist.

"Augh!" I cry, more in disgust than pain, and I double my efforts to take the brute down. I swoop through the air between us, arching my back, and I grab the Yiga about the belt as I tackle him to the floor. I press my fins against his armour, springing back to my feet, and I sink the blade of my knife into his shoulder. I can hear a muffled grunt behind the mask.

I withdraw the blade, fury blazing within me as I hear the cries of my best warriors. I will teach this fool to materialise out of nowhere, scare tactics indeed! I will send him limping back to his clan, as a warning!

What is this foolishness?! He has his other hand up, and has made a claw shape. There is a sudden rumble beneath my feet and before I know what has happened, I am on my back, gasping.

 _Wha_ _\- How-?_

Now, the brute has the upper hand. He stands over me and raises his blade. I grab for my knife, but alas, it was thrown from my hands as I was knocked over-

The swordsman suddenly falters. A spear protrudes from the folds of his uniform, shiny with blood. He looks down at it, his blank stare betraying nothing, but his surprise no doubt paints his coward's face underneath. He topples to one side and hits the ground heavily, bouncing like a felled tree.

Torfeau looks as surprised at what he just did as I am. He bows his head, offering his fin to help me up. I glance around: nobody seems badly hurt, except for the other two felled Yiga, lying on the ground at the feet of my warriors.

We whoop and cheer. I clap Torfeau on the back, thanking him.

"If it weren't for your quick thinking," I profess, "That could have been trouble."

"I don't think these things are used to fighting many foes, Your Highness," he begins. "They will have been expecting only the Princess and her Champion."

I hear the thunder of hooves as Link and the Princess approach. They both look concerned, and the Princess wriggles out of the saddle and down to the ground as quickly as she can.

"Are you hurt, Sidon?" She demands, cutting a swathe through my troop as she powers towards me. She observes me from every angle, before turning to my warriors. "Is anyone injured?"

"Cuts and bruises, Princess," I say, with a wave of my hand. I see a little of her tension melt from her face. _Good!_

She places her hand to her chest, and for a moment I swear I see a faint glow on her wrist. I blink, however, and it is gone.

"So, that was the work of the Yiga?" I exaggerate a yawn and a long stretch. "I think little of their efforts."

Link frowns. Perhaps he is right to do so: sometimes I know I do not appear to be taking things very seriously. I order my men to search the bodies, and then sink them in depths of the river. It takes four to drag the swordsman into the shallows of the river. In the end, we strip him of most of his armour. Link, Princess Zelda and I sift through his meagre belongings: a few rupees, and a dozen shrivelled banana peels.

We are about to discard most of it when the Princess stops us. In the folds of the swordsman's chest plate is a small slip of paper. It is a simple map of Hyrule, with several crudely drawn marks upon it: one in a field north of here, one at a stable, and one in the heart of my Kingdom.

I show Link, and his face turns immediately grave. He folds and pockets it, but clearly the Princess has seen enough.

"They're... tracking us? But how?"

Her eyes, blue as the reservoir, are full of fear.

"Princess," I say, taking her hand. "We will not rest until you are safe in the village."

I stand to my full height and order my men to ride hard, through the night if necessary, to ensure that the Princess' journey is as short and direct as possible. As we start the ride, with the Princess back on her own mount and flanked closely by Link and I, I wonder about the Sheikah village, and I hope there is an army there.


	11. Finally in Kakariko

**ELEVEN**  
 **FINALLY IN KAKARIKO**

* * *

 _Princess Zelda_

* * *

It has been a strange and troubling few days.

I had thought I would be thrilled to reach Kakariko – as a matter of fact, I was. My heart leapt like a sky-bound bird as I heard the rattling of the Sheikah emblems tied to the gateposts from a good half-mile away, and I had to resist the urge to press my heels into Sari and urge her rapidly on.

I was expecting at any moment to lose our Zora convoy, and I must confess I was not looking forward to it. I had enjoyed their company, particularly Sidon's words of encouragement and his support of my scientific endeavours at a time when I had begun to doubt myself once again. But he did not bring up the subject of leaving, to the end where I started to wonder if I should have gently dismissed him, but could not bring myself to be so rude. I had really begun to feel as comfortable with him as I normally feel about Link.

Speaking of, I wondered where _he_ is right now. Of course, I mean he is right beside me, but I know from the look on his face that his thoughts are far away.

At the first gatepost, we were greeted by two Sheikah guards in full regalia. The men were both stout, an attribute which was enhanced by their heavy full armour, and both possessed hair as white as freshly fallen snow. One man, the elder of the two, boasted an impressively long moustache and beard. His gaze dropped as we approached and he got down into a surprisingly graceful stoop. As he raised himself, he held out a large hand to help me from my mount. I swept my leg over and, with the aid of his strong arm, slipped gracefully to the floor.

The demeanour of the older guard took me by pleasant surprise: it wasn't until his much younger counterpart began the rigmarole of bowing and scraping and not-quite-being-able-to-meet-my-eye did I appreciate how nice it was just to be spoken to like a normal person. Having witnessed my Father, I knew that meeting any Royal could be daunting or overwhelming (especially my Father in fact, whose mere presence could quite often suck the frivolity out of a room), but sometimes I just wished it wouldn't have been improper of me to ask my subjects just to bow once, out of duty, and then treat me as any other normal human woman.

I was relieved when Dorian, the elder, after rolling his eyes at his younger counterpart's third consecutive stumbling bow, walked alongside me through the rest of the gateposts and talked to me as if I were his peer, and not some strange mythical beast that could potentially startle and bolt at any moment.

"We have been greatly anticipating your arrival, Princess," he explained, his large hands folded neatly in front of his waist as we walked. He was a very measured man; every step was equidistant from the last. His presence was incredibly calming. "I would imagine the journey has not been an easy one."

I almost mentioned the Yiga attack, but I paused, not wishing to discuss with anyone the ambush until I had spoken with Impa first. I wondered how Impa was. It had been such a long time since I had last seen her: I guess she must have been only a little older than I am now.

"It pleases me to say that we were greatly aided by Prince Sidon and his best warriors."

Dorian's great brow twisted and he glanced behind himself, bringing both booted feet sharply together. With restrained surprise, he seemed to notice the fleet of Zora travelling a respectful distance on foot behind, and he inclined his head in a slight bow. Sidon waved gallantly as his troop stopped in their march briefly to salute.

"My apologies," offered Dorian, "I did not notice them."

I found it hard wrap my brain around the notion of a character as large as Prince Sidon going unnoticed by anyone, and I couldn't help but laugh. A scarred corner of Dorian's mouth lifted; he turned his head away shyly.

As we crossed the final gatepost, we were rewarded with a wondrous view of the blissful village.

I was thrilled to notice that the place I fondly recalled had hardly changed. Children ran up and down the mud roads, Cuccos trotted about pecking at the dusty ground, and barkers for the nearby shops and businesses hopped from one foot to the other, easing their fatigue. Village people breezed in and out of their homes and other buildings. A woman with a basket of weeds at her hip was tending the shrine in the village centre, scooping the reeds out of the pond with delicate, sweeping motions. Everyone seemed to be going about their tasks at speed, yet not without grace.

"Run ahead," called Dorian to his young colleague. "Let Lady Impa know that the Princess has arrived."

The young man set off at a jog, turned around and bowed clumsily while still running backwards, and then almost stumbled on the turn back down the path. I knew without looking that Dorian's eyes were rolling, as if I could hear them going like marbles. I tried not to laugh again.

He sprinted down the path and up the steep stairs of the largest house in the village. Before the door had barely slid closed, it was thrown open once again, and a tiny wizened figure toddled out at a surprising speed.

My mind had several reactions at once, scattering in all directions like a spent firework: I knew in my heart of hearts that this little lady was Impa, and I had reminded myself on the journey that so much time had passed between our last meetings, but I was quite struck by how little and frail she looked, even from our relative distance. At the same time, I noticed she came down the steps that would have been steep for a person half her age without looking down at her feet once, and she still held her head and shoulders back and high, just as she had as a young woman.

I know that it was uncouth to break off from Link and Dorian as I rounded the path, and sprint towards my dear friend, and it was improper to almost slide on my knees down to her level and to embrace her as she opened her arms to me, as if I were the river embracing a dropped pebble. It was so comforting to be back in her arms, even if the rounded flesh of a young woman was replaced by the willowy bones of an old lady.

I was equally surprised to see that her next action after releasing me was to embrace Link – to be more accurate, she almost pulled him to the floor. I saw the tips of his long ears pinken as she held him tightly. As they stooped, I noticed a timid woman behind Impa who I could easily have mistaken for Impa herself: if she hadn't been so obviously and painfully shy in her demeanour I would have wondered if Impa had managed to clone herself, as her eccentric sister Purah used to joke about so long ago. She must be a relative of hers.

I was surprised and saddened at the realisation that my beloved friend and handmaiden had grown up, fallen in love and raised a family, all while I was far away at battle.

Impa called Sidon and his warriors down from their perch on the upper hill just past the last gatepost, and invited them to stay in the village for as long as they required.

Sidon thanked her, charming as always. His warriors looked hugely relieved now that they were at the village: I can only assume that they were looking forward to food and shelter after the past few days.

Nevertheless, it was a surprise to hear the next few words from Sidon: "I am incredibly grateful to you, Lady Impa. My warriors and I will rest, after which they will be returning to Zorana."

He glanced at me. "I however should like to stay, if this pleases the Princess."

"Of course," I answered quickly. The young girl with Impa was staring at Sidon, as many young women did, with a curious look upon her face. She had barely looked once at Link and I.

At the foot of the stairs I thanked Dorian and the other young Sheikah, and followed Impa and her companion – _daughter? Granddaughter?_ – up the flight, Link by my side. I looked long and hard at him as we ascended, but he seemed not to notice, instead staring straight ahead.

In an inversion of how I thought I would feel in the village, surrounded by both old friends and new, I felt suddenly and plaintively lonely.

* * *

 _I keep forgetting to put my author's notes in! Sorry and a big, belated thank you to all of my readers and reviewers, I am glad you are enjoying the story so far. I am pleased to say I have plenty of chapters primed and ready to go, aiming to post a chapter every other day. Please let me know if any of you spot any errors - I have a dedicated beta reader but the rate I'm churning them out is bogging him down! Much appreciated, - Neet._


	12. Hyrule Castle Memories (Impa)

**TWELVE**  
 **CASTLE HYRULE MEMORIES  
**

* * *

 _Impa, of the Sheikah Tribe_

* * *

The moment I had awoken this morning, I had felt it in the marrow of my bones: the Princess would arrive today.

When word officially was broken, my granddaughter along with the rest of the village wore various expressions of surprise as I got myself down from my altar seat and stretched my shrunken limbs. As the Princess arrived with young Link and her convoy, I could not suppress the urge to press towards her, my old bones creaking.

I held her and felt as if I was a young woman once again.

I remembered my first year living in the castle. After I had learned not to act nervous around the King and Queen, and to suppress the urge to stare impolitely at my shoes in their presence, it had become very evident that they were simply people, as disappointing as it may have seemed to many an impressionable young woman like me. I had always had a keen sense of character, which I suspected was why a lot of children my own age didn't warm to me: I was always a quiet child, keen to hear new people speak first, aware of how much someone would give away when met with quietness. I also suspected this was why I was the only young Sheikah woman sent specifically to work as a handmaiden for the young Princess, mere months after I came of age.

I was to directly report to the Queen's handmaidens during my first few weeks, and I was given a very small room in the lower quadrants of the castle, a good five or six corridors from the Library, next to the kitchens. I had been instructed to bring the barest of items with me, which suited me fine. On the only table in my room sat a leather-bound diary, much like this one, an inkwell and quills, and a few Sheikah books which would have been indecipherable nonsense to any of the other staff members. The only other items of any vague sentiment might have been a small pair of ear cuffs, no bigger or longer than my thumb. They were cold silver studded with tiny fragments of sapphire, and they once belonged to my mother. I hadn't yet seen an occasion to wear them.

I did not meet the Princess or the King formally until well past my second month of service. The first time I met King Rhoam Bosphoramus was on an evening trip to the library. I had believed the Royal Family to be in the dining room. The King was coming down the corridor with a book in his enormous hand as I entered from the other side with three books of my own in my arms.

Upon noticing his approach, I shuffled the books into a pile, averting my eyes to the floor, and I stooped into a bow. I expected him to pass me by without comment, but his feet slowed to a stop.

"Young Sheikah," he said, with the touch of a question in his tone. Now that he had addressed me of sorts, I knew I could rise.

The King shifted his considerable weight from one side to the other. He had a wide gait, like a man who has ridden a fast horse for long periods, and his legs were thick and muscular. His beard was short, impeccably well trimmed, and along with the bushy brown eyebrows, framed his wide, round face. He did not appear unkind, but he had a small nick in the centre of his brow, where a frown had obviously been his natural expression for so long.

"Your Highness?"

"I understand you are to lend your hand to my daughter," he said, folding his arms in front of his stomach. "Zelda."

"Yes, Highness, if I may be of service to her."

The King sucked his lips in and pressed them against each other, turning the pink skin white. "Zelda is…a good girl, headstrong like her mother. There are a few things I should like her to learn before she grows much older that her other tutors seem to have omitted from their lessons."

I was unsure what he meant by that. He did realise I was not her tutor, but merely another female attendant, chosen only because of the relative usefulness of my race to the Royal Family? I went over my told list of duties in my head: attend to the Princess, to be present during the daylight hours but not after dinner, to not disturb the Princess before she woke, and to leave anything else to the other Handmaidens. Now that I thought about it, it did seem a rather strange arrangement. What had been omitted?

Before I could answer, the King opened the book he was holding to the first few pages. He glanced down at it to check his place before placing his thumb over the top of the spine and turning it to me.

"Have you or your…tribesmen…ever encountered anything like this?"

Suddenly I was looking at a crude replication of an ancient tablature I had seen many times in various literature: the Princess, with the blood of the Goddess, and the Hero blessed by the Goddess, surrounded by other recognisable runes, vanquishing the Calamity.

"Yes, your Highness" I answered truthfully.

King Rhoam bent his body towards me, his eyes glancing left and right. "Then I am sure of it," he whispered hoarsely, heralding no further explanation. "Zelda must learn of her importance."

"Of course, your Highness."

The King straightened up, nodded, and started on his way. I waited for a few more seconds before shuffling the pile in my arms and carrying onwards, now unsure of where to go.

"Sheikah," called the King. I turned and inclined my head.

"Sheikah," he said again, taking a few soft steps back towards me. "Please use the library at any time. If you require any additional sources, you must send for them. Let me know what you discover."

"Yes, your Highness."

He turned and was gone with a few strides down the corridor, book still in his hand. I waited until his footsteps were nothing, and then a few more seconds for good measure before turning around and racing back towards my room. My hands fumbled for my quill as I turned to the back of one of the books and tore out the blank page at the back, muttering for forgiveness as I did. I don't remember how I managed to get the message to my sister, but inside my hastily scrawled note there was one important sentence:

 _The King believes in the prophecy_.

* * *

 _I hope nobody minds guest chapters - I've got more than a few coming up, I feel it stops the story going stale. Certain characters we'll hear a lot more from, while other's I'm afraid will never speak... thanks again to everyone for their kind words. - Neet_


	13. The Old Among the Young (Impa)

**THIRTEEN**  
 **THE OLD AMONG THE YOUNG**

* * *

 _Impa, of the Sheikah tribe_

* * *

Paya hums happily as she pours tea. She always hums in the presence of Master Link, as well as frequently toying with her braids. I find the whole exhibition a little sickening, but then I recall the handsome man who made my cheeks pinken, and my hands rub together absent-mindedly. I suppose I was only a little older than she is now.

She passes the tea to the Princess first, the cup in its saucer clinking with her shaking hand, then to me, and finally to Master Link. The teacup hums a little nervous tune as well, silenced only by Link's steadier grip.

Paya almost sits down until I say to our unexpected guest: "And would you care for tea, Prince Sidon?"

Paya stops so quickly in her descent that she kicks the cushion underneath her a few feet backwards. She glances down at her own cup, deduces correctly that it would be offensive to offer a member of Royalty her own beverage, and then reaches over for the cup and pot. The handsome Zora, uncomfortably but politely perched upon a cushion opposite Princess Zelda, nods genially and holds the cup out towards her. Paya is now shaking so much, the spout rattles around the inside of the cup. She cannot tear her eyes away from the Prince's kind, beaming face, and they follow his muscular arm up from the shoulder so slowly that she almost overfills the cup until he quickly removes it.

"Thank you kindly," he says, raising the cup to his mouth and taking a sip. She goes to sit down and without even looking Link pushes the cushion forward so that her backside falls neatly upon it as she sits.

As I observe Zelda sipping her tea, both hands delicately folded around the cup, I wonder why my little Paya is so lacking in grace. With my reluctance to let her martial training begin within the recent uncertain times, I wonder if I have not done her any favours. Perhaps it would do to let her training commence sometime soon. With Link once more back in our lives, I wonder if I could manipulate something.

I cannot, however, suppress the concerns about Link and Zelda. I am, like everyone else, elated by their victory over Ganon, but I feel eaten up inside at how unprepared Link would have been. It is lucky that he recovered the memories locked inside the Slate, and indeed himself. He was always a thorough young man where duty was concerned, and he doted on the Princess.

Despite Link and Zelda's relative combined ages, and Sidon's maturity thanks to his genetic predisposition, I cannot help acutely feeling that I am the elder in a room full of teenagers. Paya stares at Sidon for as long as she can muster, then guiltily her eyes turn over to Master Link. The Princess looks at Link until she notices Paya looking, at which point she looks at the furthest point in the room. Sidon is the most convincing, looking directly ahead or at one of my various heirlooms until he raises his cup to hide his line of sight, when he looks over the rim at the Princess.

Master Link, meanwhile, seems to look only at the snack rolls on the table, of which he has already scoffed three. But the one moment he allows himself a long look at Zelda, while she is talking, his eyes take on the lustre of sapphires under river water.

What in Hyrule am I going to do with them?

I remember a time from long ago, when I was summoned to the Shrine of Resurrection, appearing just in time to see the blue silhouette of Robbie, head researcher of the Akkala lab, synchronise into place. Purah was already there, marching back and forth around the altar. Link's broken body had been personally delivered to my sister and I, a gift we were horrified to receive, by a group of Sheikah soldiers. He had been wrapped in cloth, horribly limp, pale as a water lily except for streaks of congealing blood. We had laid him on the altar and unwrapped his sheets like a reverse embalming. I placed on the floor the healing items I had travelled briefly back to my home to collect.

Despite seeing his wounds with my knowledge that they would heal, I remember feeling incredibly sick as Robbie cut away his tunic with a surgeon's precision.

"He will scar quite nastily," he said grimly, adjusting his spectacles, "But that will be the least of his worries."

Purah lays her hand flat across his chest and flexes the fingers. For a moment, I wonder if she wants to hold my hand - something we haven't done for almost decades – until I realise she is beckoning for the Slate. I pass it over to her, my stomach rolling as the tunic is peeled back, revealing a number of superficial cuts as well as two large burn fissures: one below the left side of the ribcage, and one on the opposite side, a finger's length down.

"Guardian scopes did these," explained Robbie, "Likely the large ones: the stalkers. He won't have been fast enough to block more than one. Nasty, spiteful things they turned out to be, albeit fascinating..."

He tore a cloth in half, and as he handed it to me to press on the wound closest to me I felt my throat opening and closing like the mouth of a stunned fish, and thick syrupy saliva fill my mouth. Neither of my colleagues acknowledged my quiet dry heaving. I could have put it down to the shock of seeing the young Champion who I had come to know and care for in such a state, my panic and worry, or that which I did not know at the time: I was in the earliest stages of my pregnancy.

Paya looks the image of her mother; the same sweep of hair and the bow shape where it meets her forehead, the same large, wistful eyes. I have not told her the story of the resurrection chambers, though like every young Sheikah, she knows of its existence. She did not know that the price paid for healing your body from moments after its death can often wipe your mind as clean as a chalkboard in the rain. None of us really did, not until Link returned to us after awakening in the Shrine, with far fewer memories than I anticipated.

And now I am unsure that the Princess remembers everything as she should. As she talks, however animated her speech may be, she sounds as she did years ago when she would recount a story about one of the other Handmaidens: as if she was talking about something that happened to someone else a long while ago instead of recent events in her own life. There are great swathes of information missing between both of them; Zelda's more recent, Link's further back in time. I am convinced there are things that each of them are hiding from the other, or perhaps even from themselves.

We sip tea and the young ones gradually empty the plates of food. I am on such a simple diet, having barely moved since the death of my daughter Sola, but after my brief spurt of energy earlier today, I manage a small amount of stewed pumpkin. I hope that bringing in a decent amount of fish for Prince Sidon has helped somewhat – with all that bulk I wonder how much he must eat to even balance his diet, let alone contribute to his luminescent scales and vast musculature. I suppose it would be rude to ask, even for research purposes.

I must have time alone with Master Link and the Princess. If she is planning what I believe she is planning, there is much more she and Link must both know.


	14. Link Speaks (Impa)

**FOURTEEN**  
 **LINK SPEAKS**

* * *

 _Impa, of the Sheikah tribe_

* * *

I place my cup down on its saucer, and dutifully, the young ones all look upon me.

"Your Highnesses," I address both young Royals, "To have shared a meal with you all today around my own table brings to me joy and happiness that I have not known for many years."

The Princess' eyes well up as I continue, and she demurely catches a tear upon her wrist. Prince Sidon watches me although his eyes dart over to her on occasion. "However," I continue, "I have much to discuss with you all in turn. If it suits you, I should like a brief audience with Master Link."

Link, who was slowly and politely chewing up until that moment, swallows his mouthful so hard that he takes himself by surprise. He looks at me for a second, then nods respectfully.

"Of course, Lady Impa," says Sidon, standing with the briefest of bows. He is too tall for my modest house, and has to stoop slightly, which of course he does without complaint. "If the Princess should like to accompany me-"

"We will take a brief tour of the village," Zelda interrupts, also standing. "Paya, would you come? There are a few things I would like to ask the villagers. I could do with a guide, if you're free to help."

Paya quickly nods and bows her approval, and save for a last glance back at Link, she exits with them. I hear them pass down the stairway until their feet and voices are too far away to discern.

"Now then," I say with a wry smile, turning to Link, " _Champion_."

He squirms a little. Clearly, he will never be used to that title. He makes to stand, but I lower him again with an outstretched hand. I reach for the teapot but he is there before I get halfway, and he pours me another tea. I raise the cup to my mouth and gratefully sip.

"I am sure you have been asked this many times," I begin over the rim of my cup, "but do you remember much of before you awoke in the Shrine?"

He opens his mouth to say "yes", but his eyes cannot match his lips in their certainty. His brow furrows as he struggles for internal clarity.

"Please, just tell me what you remember."

It turns out that the memories he does have could fill roughly one page of this diary. He seems to know a few facts, but these seem to be from things people have told him, rather than things he remembers experiencing.

The most interesting thing he tells me is that on his journeys he met with the spirits of the Champions, each trapped within their vessels, and each passing on a gift to him before completing their journey to the afterlife.

"Gifts?" I wonder. Could it be that they all hid something inside their crafts, aware that they may meet their ends in the battle?

Link patiently explains that these were not material items, but more like… special abilities. He explains that these gifts were things that seemed to manifest within the Champions during their lives. As he speaks, I remember Prince Sidon's sister Mipha, and her supernatural ability to heal. I was not acutely aware of any of the other Champions' talents, so I listen without interrupting as Link continues his story.

The thunderous power of fury, from the Gerudo, Urbosa. I remember the striking young woman with the sharp tongue now, of whom Zelda became very fond. I remember feeling a sharp pang of envy towards her, and not just because of her beauty.

The mighty power of protection, from Daruk of the Gorons. The eldest by quite some margin, he took to Link as if he were his little brother, and shielded him from the criticisms of the others until they warmed up to him. He seemed the most level-headed of the Champions, and without wishing to seem disrespectful of the younger ones, I was most dismayed to hear he had fallen to the Blight of Ganon.

The ability to create fierce gales, from Revali, the Rito Champion. Now, here was the most surprising. Revali was most difficult to warm to, and his attitude flared my temper. He was rude, thought himself certainly more skilled and worthy than the other Champions, and showed almost reluctance to aid Link and the Princess. I had felt that his spirit would be restless and resentful, so proud was he of his youth and vigour while he was alive. In fact, Link keeps this part of the tale brief. Perhaps he has not found peace with Revali yet either.

And finally, the healing power of Mipha. She, who I see so much of in her younger brother, was the Champion Link first freed, and I wonder if that was purely coincidental. Nothing in the life of Link, it seems, ever is. Link has plenty more to say about his visit to the Zora, how pleased he was to see Sidon again, how he has enjoyed the Prince's company.

I wonder if he remembers his discussions with my sister about her - rather pointless and somewhat vain, I thought – de-ageing process. If he did, surely, he would remember more of his relationship with the Zora Princess.

I ask politely if the King and the people are well. I have never met them, but Link will not remember that. His speech gives away that yes; perhaps he does remember a little more of Princess Mipha, and maybe even recalls their feelings for one another.

There was a young man I believe I loved, months before I was drafted to the palace, whom I had grown up alongside: a young Sheikah like me, we had run the fields around the village together and seen our trials out side by side. As we had aged, our play sessions had turned more into lengthy discussions, pushing our curfews later and later. We had kissed on the hill overlooking the old fountain, and then some time after, I had gone on to the palace.

We bade farewell to each other, hoping we would see each other again, until I heard casually from a visiting colleague many years later that he had been killed by a Yiga strike in the field in Gerudo. I had been forced to excuse myself, for it was as if I had been hit in the stomach with a blunt object.

As I struggled to contain myself then, I could not say in truth that I still loved him, but at the same time, a part of me knew I _had_ done. I had little hope of a future with this man, and just a short while after hearing of his death I would be married to another, but the loss still aches to this day.

I suddenly realised that Link had not spoken for a long time. He was cradling his cup in one hand.

"Have you and the Princess spoken much?" I almost added ' _about her plans_ ' but I suspected there had been silence on both sides. He confessed they had not, lapsing into the stoic stare which I knew frustrated the Princess, and often frustrated me.

"Link," I said to him patiently, "you have no further burdens to bear, other than your duty to the Princess, which you know is an honour-"

"I know it is an honour," he says softly to the table. I am taken by surprise. "I know it is a _great_ honour."

"Every morning I am awake before her, and I watch her…" He shakes his head. "No, I pray and give thanks, and I am grateful that she and I are together again." He turns his head to stare at the painting revealing the spot where they were last united, before being pulled apart for a century.

"Every time she talks of her duty, I am unsure of what she means, and what that means for…" His eyes wander over to me. "…for us."

I reach across the table, reaching out across the broken years and the silence to take his hand. He grips it in his own and I feel both the softness of youth and the callused fingertips of a working man's hand. I grasp it closer to me and clasp it in both of mine, bringing him off the cushion and onto his knees before me.

"Zelda will always need you," I explain, feeling a rush of guilt and exhilaration that accompanies words you should probably not be speaking. "She is unaware herself how much she needs you, Link."

Tears run down both of his cheeks. He knows as well as I do that he will never truly get the fragments of his old life back together, and he has no idea what this new life will mean for him, whether the Princess returns the feelings I am sure he has for her. I feel a quiet, tiny splinter of sadness inside for my Paya.

"You must encourage her," I urge him. "She wishes to have the chance to rule her people, something she was never properly prepared to do." Despite my attempts to coach her in how to rule, the King clouded her judgment and made her sole pursuit the awakening of her powers in her latter years. Try as I might, I could not undo the damage he unwittingly did.

"You know as well as I do that she is able, but she cannot make it without your support. Hyrule is scattered, its citizens far-flung, and you are unprepared for an attack from the Yiga Clan." He shifts on his knees. "I know that you are more than a match for them, but they are leaderless, rudderless and dangerous, like a ship on fire."

Link asks me what more we can do.

I think of my distant beloved, slain by Yiga: my second in command Dorian and the loss he believes I know nothing about, and my terrorised people.

"We will wipe them out," I say in a dark, measured tone.

* * *

 _Link won't be staying silent much longer, my dear reader! And Impa gets one more chapter at least. I am so thankful to my readers and reviewers - you've all been so lovely. This looks set to be a long-runner as I am now close to Chapter 60 - I hope you'll stick with me for hopefully more fun and excitement. - Neet_


	15. The Princess in Town

**FIFTEEN**  
 **THE PRINCESS IN TOWN**

* * *

 _Princess Zelda_

* * *

I know it is rude to want to know what Impa has said to Link. I feel as Princess I have a right to know, and then I almost laugh in my own head at how pompous I sound.

I cannot wait for an audience with her. Paya takes me first to the clothing store and I must insist to the girls behind the counter that I will be paying for my own clothing. Sidon waits patiently outside, to the relative disappointment of the young ladies. I purchase several sensible, yet stylish items. As the counter girl, Claree, neatly folds my garments, Paya pointedly explains that the she is the seamstress, and designs each one herself.

"Is that so?" I exclaim with surprise. I had not even given it any thought, assuming she was just a shop girl. I feel incredibly rude and a horrid sense that once again I know nothing about my people.

"Yes," she says, looking down at her fingernails. "Everything in the Claree Collection is one of a kind." With a look from me and Paya, she continues: "I have even outfitted your Champion."

My heart does a strange thing inside me, as if the thought of Link was suddenly something out of the ordinary, and the mention of him was incredibly important. I glance out of the shop's front door and instead see Sidon, balancing strangely on one leg and then the other. A villager walks past, staring at him, and bashes his shins on a low fence.

"If it is not too much trouble," I begin, "Would you design something for me?"

Claree's bright eyes blink several times, as if she is trying to refresh her brain. "I'm sorry? I mean, I'm sorry _your Highness?_ "

"I'm sure she'd be delighted to," answers Paya. I admire her attitude: she wants to make sure I recognise her friends' talents, even if Claree is too shocked to speak. I begin to wonder if I underestimated her.

I explain briefly to Claree what I would like, and she draws up some promising sketches. I even leave her with a few gems by way of down-payment, or to use as accoutrements if she would like. She clutches them in her hands, the coloured light reflecting on her grateful face.

As I leave the shop with Paya, I feel relieved thinking about the people I have met so far. When I first saw those ruins with Link, I had been petrified of finding nothing but the trace of death everywhere I went. He did explain that many of the citizens whose villages were overrun seemed to have gathered in the larger settlements, but it was still a relief to see such a thriving village. If I wanted my Kingdom to prosper, I could see I was going to have to visit as many villages and towns as I possibly could. I started to explain this plan to Sidon.

"That seems most sensible, your Highness," he assures me.

I roll my eyes. "Please, Prince Sidon, you are welcome to call me Zelda." His brow raises. "It's tiresome to have to refer to me as 'your Highness' every time, I'm sure. And I hope you don't mind if I address you as Prince Sidon."

"As you wish," says Sidon, adding with a hint of a smile, "Zelda."

I smile. It pleases me to finally have someone address me as a peer. I am about to ask Paya to do the same, but there is a redness on her face that seems to beg me not to do it! I turn back to Sidon.

"I really am grateful for everything you and your warriors have done for me," I begin. Sidon takes my hands suddenly and drops to his knees, drawing us both level. Poor Paya almost trips over the backs of his legs.

"Please, don't say it like that!" he cries in a melodramatic tone. "You make it sound as if we are forced to part!"

I am confused. "But…aren't we parting here?"

"Pri- _Zelda_ ," he corrects himself, as he clutches my hands in his cool touch. "I discussed matters with my father before leaving Zorana. I told him I did not know when I would return, as I would accompany you for as long as you see fit, in your attempt to rebuild the land I know that you love."

I was almost floored by his words. How could he see through me so accurately? Was my head made of glass? I felt sure that Sidon was moments away from ascending the throne of Zora's Domain, and yet here he was, offering his presence to the Princess of another Kingdom. What a heart of gold he has.

"Sidon-" I begin, words running into each other in my mouth like hungry guests at the line for the dinner table.

"I know that you wish to rebuild your empire," he stops me, "And I hope you can forgive my somewhat overenthusiastic intrusion into your carefully formed plans."

 _Hah! Carefully formed, indeed. If only he knew!_

"Of course not-" I begin, but he is in the middle of a monologue, and will not be stopped. I can't help but find his zeal most endearing. Paya is looking at him with her hands clasped together on her breast.

"If my proposal suits you, I will simply send my troops home. If you would prefer to carry on without me, I will accompany them. Please, I urge you to think on your own accord! Do not let me force my way into your plans, my dear Zelda!"

The villagers are watching us now with marked interest. In the silence that follows they all try their best not to look like they were observing.

I laugh. "In that case, Prince Sidon, I would love you to join our cause. Is there anything further I can do to make things more comfortable?"

"My only suggestion, if I may," he continues, "Is that we might travel close by water. That way, not only will I be able to refresh myself frequently, but also we will remain relatively untraceable by any more Yiga."

Paya, who I keep forgetting is with us, gasps at the mention of the notorious clan.

"I am hoping to speak with Impa today in relation to our problem with the Yiga," I assure him. "I know she knows a lot more about them than we do. I am concerned about the power vacuum now that Link has toppled their leader."

As if speaking his name could summon him, I suddenly notice Link at the foot of the stairs leading to Impa's home. He is watching us, expressionless. I am suddenly aware of my hands in Sidon's, and I lift his arms pointedly. He raises to his feet, but doesn't let go, even as Link slowly approaches us. In order not to be rude, I look Sidon in the eyes. I cannot believe, once again, as I meet his strange but friendly gaze, how kind and accommodating he has been. I truly owe him and his father so much already.

"Thank you, Zelda," says Sidon. Link does a double take between the two of us, and folds his arms. _I wonder what he and Impa have spoken about?_

He breaks his aggressive stance and bows, and tells me that Impa would like to see me. I excuse myself, and begin the ascent to her home, wondering as I usually do what lies ahead.


	16. The Yellow Papers

**SIXTEEN**

 **THE YELLOW PAPERS**

 _Princess Zelda_

On the table in front of Lady Impa, in among the empty teacups, lays Link's Sheikah slate.

I cannot help but stare at it, even as I greet Impa and sit down on the cushion nearest to her. She watches my gaze.

"Go on, Princess," she urges. "Please, pick it up."

Nothing happens, as it always did whenever I touched it. I've seen Link turn it over and over in his hands, igniting it and revisiting pictures he has taken with it, flicking through them idly as if it were easy as reading a book. I am as jealous as I have always been.

"Do you understand how it works?"

"Yes," I say, a little shakily. "I mean, I know what it is. And I know it's what is known as forbidden Sheikah technology. I just don't understand how to…get it going."

Impa chuckles, closing her eyes. "It's not as complex as it looks."

"Then why won't it work for me?" I say, like a petulant child. Suddenly I wished I could pluck those words out of the air, as if I'd never said them. "I mean… could you please show me?"

Impa smirks not impolitely and takes the tablet from me. Suddenly the eye of the Sheikah is called up on its glass front, and it awakens.

"Do you have to be Sheikah?" I ask stupidly, and then I remember that it is, by rights, Link's slate. "I mean-"

"You aren't going to like this, Princess," she begins, cupping her round little chin in her withered hand, "But you just have to trust it will someday work for you."

My insides clench up as if I'd eaten something sour. Yes, I recognise those words; or words to that effect.

"I guess it just isn't meant to be," I say with a sigh, as she puts the tablet down on the table.

"Have you asked young Link to remind you how it works?" She asks. "I am sure he would enlighten you. There is more to it than just taking pictures, if you recall."

I remember my annoyance after trying, and failing, to get into the ancient shrines. _What on earth was inside them? Technology? Treasure?_

"Has Link been inside those shrines?" I ask.

Impa nods. "Almost certainly," she says with a small smile. "Thus, it would be safe for him to take you into one with him. The challenges within are carefully laid out for him, but I am aware that he has conquered many of them, including-" she turns a little on her pulpit to gesture out of the left side window, "this one near the village."

My heart swells with excitement. Finally, Link willing of course, I would see inside a real Shrine!

"But first," Impa cut in, "I would like you to tell me what happened when you went to confront Calamity Ganon."

"No," I whimper, taking both myself and Impa by surprise. I steel my innards as I continue: "I won't tell it again, please don't make me, Impa."

Tears pour out of my eyes, and I can tell through my blurred vision that even Impa is taken aback by my vast overreaction. I was so frustrated by my apparent lack of ability with the Slate, and I could only assume that everything was just designed today to infuriate and disappoint me, after such a promising start.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," I wail, splaying my hands, and hoping Dorian or none of Impa's other bodyguards are waiting outside. "Not just with the Slate, but in general, I don't know what to do."

Impa patiently lets me cry for a few more minutes, until all my righteous indignation seems to have dried up, then she pours a little cold tea into the cup nearest to me. I take it up and drink, at least to replenish the rivulets of lost fluids that had run down my face and into the collar of my coat.

"I keep having these…visions," I explain, when my tears have dried up. "Something triggers them and I suddenly find myself back years ago, stuck in some awful memory I don't want to relive." I remember back at the reservoir where my relentless flashbacks had almost got me drowned. "So you'll have to forgive me if I don't wish to relive any of it any more."

Impa seems to accept this. She folds her hands a moment and nods.

"Would you kindly have a look at something on my desk for me, Princess?"

I blink. "Of course."

I raise myself stiffly to my feet and follow her bony finger as she points over at her desk, in the right corner. There are papers strewn across it, as if she had been interrupted in the middle of her reading.

"Would you find me the picture of the apple, please?" I begin sifting through the papers as she continues: "But I don't need anything on the yellow papers. Those are useless."

That was a task in itself. Everywhere I look there are yellow papers. My brow furrowed in concentration, I continue rifling through all of them.

"I don't think what you want is over here, Lady Impa," I say, after a few more moments searching.

"Oh, it is," she says, with a touch of humour in her voice. I begin to get irritable, remembering this is the sort of fools' errand she would often set me upon when we were at home in the Castle. Although, admittedly there would always be a point to her exercises. I battle with my impatience until finally I found the picture of the apple: a tiny doodle on a scrap of plain paper, barely the size of a leaf.

"Here it is," I say, passing it to her as I seat myself. To my dismay, she tosses it onto the table without even looking at it.

"Took you a little while to find it, didn't it, Princess."

"Yes," I say, somewhat tetchily, "and all those yellow sheets of paper which you said to ignore didn't help."

Impa nods. "Zelda," she starts, leaning toward me with her hands folded once again, "Your painful memories are those yellow pieces of paper. If there weren't so many in the way, you would have found what you were looking for in no time at all."

"I suppose," I begin, reluctant to cut in any further.

"If you have painful memories that you leave unresolved," Impa continues at leisure, "They will clutter up your mind, so that whenever you need to think about something else, you will find yourself with a collection of uncomfortable things in the way."

I know she talks sense. It was why every time I tried to start something productive, I would start thinking about my Father, or Urbosa and her inevitable last moments in Naboris, or Link dying in my arms. That was the most recent, and painful.

"I keep thinking about them," I confess, hot tears spurting out of the corners of my eyes again. "About Link, and my friends, laying down their lives for me."

"In fairness, my Princess, I don't think it was only for you that the Champions laid down their lives," she soothes. "They knew what they were up against. They knew it was all for Hyrule; for their people, for the innocent."

"I can't escape these feelings," I sob. The more I cry, more tears seemed to appear, as if they had been queued up to pour forth for weeks. Perhaps they had.

"The worst memory of all is Link," I whisper into my own lap, barely sure if Impa can hear me. "I have to see him every day, knowing how it felt to see him die in front of me, because-" I gasp, losing coherence, "he died saving me because I couldn't save myself-"

"You saved _him_ , Princess," Impa whispered, and I realised she had shuffled onto the ground next to me. Her bony arm wrapped around my shoulders and rested upon them light as a downy throw. "Your power awakened right then, didn't it? And you fulfilled your destiny. Even after initial failure."

'Failure' stung a little, but she was correct. After our first collective failure, I had sent Link's body off with the first Sheikah foot soldiers to find us, and then I had…I had…

"What…happened to the sword?" I ask Impa. "Did you give it to Link once he revived and reached you?"

Impa shakes her head. "You took the sword, Princess. Try to remember: the soldiers took his body to the Shrine, you saw him rested, and before you went to face the Calamity you took your horse and rode to…"

Impa's words faded into the mist of time as I slipped back, back into the verdant forest of the Korok. With the sword heavy and cold in my hand, and in my ruined dress, I stood before the pedestal and prepared to heft the blade into the stone.

I spoke to the sword. I know it sounds foolish, but I knew it could hear: it was the calm voice that had told me that Link could be saved. I knew it had to be returned here, so that its master would find it in time.

"If I may be so bold…" I almost dropped the sword as the Great Tree's knotted bark shifted and twisted before me into a humanoid face. The branches swayed with a thousand little whispers. "What is it that you plan to do next, Princess?"

 _Vast and green, the Deku tree,_

 _Older than you and older than me._

 _Outgrew rain, outlasts sun,_

 _Outlives each and every one_.

I knew from a childhood rhyme, buried deep in concealed memories, that the tree would be here even when I could not. I knew if it saw me today, it would see Link when he came to collect the sword…

Link, the boy I had first seen in the castle town, in a too-big tunic belonging to his father or an older brother, wielding a sword with ease and grace that put boys years older to shame. Being told in no uncertain terms by my Father that he would be my personal bodyguard; and my petty, jealous disgust at the ease at which he seemed to conquer every challenge in front of him while I struggled with even the simplest tasks. How despite my misgivings and his stubborn silence, we had eventually become friends.

And then when our pair of personalities had rubbed enough against each other, like hard stones becoming smooth pebbles, we had each found a friend in the other. I was ashamed how my standoffishness might have pushed him away, and frustrated that he had spent so much time brooding, unwilling to share. He hadn't even shared that during his time of service to me, back in the Castle town, his Father had passed away. We had been merely a day's ride from the town at the time. He hadn't wanted to disturb our research. He assured me that the Champions were his family, now.

As I stood with the cold hilt in my hand, I wondered if I would survive to see him once again, knowing that my failure would result in the end of my Kingdom, the end of my people, the reign of pure evil. But still with all that weighing on my mind, I knew there was a good chance that I might never again see the face of the young man I had come to love.

I loved him, and I knew it right there and then, as I stood in the forest in front of the tree, clutching the last thing he had held. Weak and winded by the revelation, I steeled myself and leant on the sword's hilt. I wondered if the Great Tree would pass on my message.

The Tree shook itself, leaves tumbling like paper streamers, and the vines around it clenched and knotted about each other.

"I think a message from you would sound better in the tones of your own voice," it boomed, "don't you agree, Princess?"

I gasp aloud in the present, and come rushing back as my hands grip the edges of Impa's table. I jolt, and her arm slips from my shoulder.

"Drink," she orders, pushing the cup of cold tea towards me. I comply, finding the act of swallowing soothing, and it helps me to regulate my breathing.

The tips of my fingers tingle, and my heart flits against its bony cage like a fretful bird. I know suddenly what I had seen: that while my body and power fought Calamity Ganon, my unconscious mind roamed the fields and valleys with my Champion, watching him free his fellows from their incorporeal prisons, witnessing him take on the beasts of the land, seeing him make discoveries I had longed to discover beside him. I remember what I had seen in a great many flashes, like flicking through a picture book at speed. But more importantly I knew I still loved the man behind the armour, who once had a family that he let aside to his duty, who loved food so much that he hummed happily while cooking, who wrenched the bare limbs from his enemies yet held me so gently in those same arms.

I loved him, and if we were two different beings in this world - Zora perhaps, or even just Hylian villagers – we would have fallen in love, married despite the looming threat of annihilation, and raised a family under the shadow of the Calamity. But I had loved him despite my elevated status, and the fact that he was my sworn protector, and the fact that there was no evidence that he felt the same way.

What is one supposed to do with such important, useless information?


	17. Link Cooks Something Up

**SEVENTEEN**

 **LINK COOKS SOMETHING UP**

 _Princess Zelda_

I couldn't think of how Link might react if I told him my true feelings, and the more I thought about it, the more I knew I must keep it to myself. I would rather face off against a gang of Guardians than force my feelings upon him. What in the land inspired me to wish to tell him, or to ask the Great Deku Tree to run my lovesick errands, like a child passing notes? I could only put it down to adrenaline, loneliness, blithe stupidity.

But then all the times we have touched, or come close to it. Could they really be a lie? A few days ago, when he almost wiped away the apple juice from my lip at the stable campfire; surely that would be too familiar a gesture for friends to share? I thought of doing something like that to Prince Sidon, and my inner self recoiled in surprise. _I would never!_

"You have a duty," began Impa slowly, after she had politely watched my inner turmoil unfold on my face, "to your people…"

My heart became a stone, sinking slowly in my chest as if through dense water. I know she is right. Before I resign myself to permanent loneliness, her lips move again:

"But you also have a duty to yourself." She sits back, and I suddenly see how small she has become. "You are a Princess, but you are also a young woman, and a person of her own."

She places her hand in the crook of my arm, and I place my own slender fingers over it. "I…need more time, Impa," I whisper, "and that's a luxury I don't think I have."

We say nothing for the next few minutes, sat still as statues, almost meditating. I could feel the fog of tears, shame and embarrassment lifting as the moments rolled on. It occurs to me that I'd never actually been in love before, and yet here was Impa, my old friend and confidante, having made a family of her own. Even though we were still gently embracing, I felt incredibly lonely again, separated from her by a cruel, empty century.

I have so much I want to ask her, but instead I lie, telling her I am fine. As I stand, she presses the sketch of the apple into my hand. I fold it and tuck it into the breast pocket of my jacket, reminding myself to swap it to a safer place later.

I slide Impa's front door open, taking a soothing lungful of fresh air. The village is awash with afternoon colour; from the warm red of the gatepost garlands to the crystalline green of the pond where the Goddess' altar stands.

For the few minutes before I am noticed, I watch the village just be: a man with a topknot turning the soil in his well-tilled garden, another man urging a Cucco through a gate with a broom, a thin stream of stew-scented smoke pouring from the chimney next door.

From his place at the foot of the stairs, I notice Dorian watching something and laughing. Following his line of sight, I see two young girls, probably no older than eight or nine, playing with Link.

He is on his back, rolling around on the dusty ground, and the smallest girl is clambering all over him with carefree abandon. The older one has a long, slender stick, and hops from foot to nimble foot, prodding him in the ribs with it. He squirms but continues to let her poke at him.

"Die, die, smelly Bokoblin!" she shrieks at the top of her voice, coming dangerously close to poking him in the eye.

"Koko," warns Dorian, "Cottla, please." I begin to descend the stairs as Link bats the stick away and gets up into a low crouch. He follows the girls around in an ungainly fashion, growling and waving his hands about the top of his head like horns, as they dart expertly out of his clutches.

I couldn't suppress my coy giggle, and he straightens up hastily as I reach the bottom of the stairs. Dorian politely bows to me, and then rushes over to catch both of his girls with a large hand about their heads. The smallest one hides behind her father's legs, peering uncertainly at me, the new stranger. Link, a touch embarrassed, clears his throat.

"Don't let me interrupt," I say, sweetly as I can. "Looks like you were beating him." I wink at the eldest, who blushes and hides the stick behind her back.

"Link, Link," clamours the little one, wriggling out of her father's grasp and reaching out for her favourite person. He sweeps her up as if she were nothing but a bag of sugar and balances her on his hip, where she happily coos. He whispers something softly to her and she nods, bumps her cheek against his, and then allows him to lower her to the floor where she toddles back to her father.

I struggle to remember if Link had ever mentioned having younger brothers or sisters. He really does have a certain charm that drew the immediate trust of small children – actually, he has that effect on most people. Little ones usually didn't know how to approach a Princess, and acted a little scared. Just as I was thinking this, I felt a tug at the fingers of my right hand.

"Do you want to see my cooking pot?"

It was the elder girl, with her sticky fingers looped around one of mine. She has a round face and bright little eyes, and her hair is almost golden-white, not as ashen as Dorian's. Dorian says nothing, but I could tell he is a little uncomfortable at his daughter's display of familiarity.

"I'd love to," I answer.

"Link's seen it," she says matter-of-factly, pulling me around the front of the next building, up a little wooden patio that overlooks the little moat around Impa's house. The large, flat pot is sat upon an already lit fire, sputtering with heat. "He helped me with the ingredients."

Sheepishly, she glances at Link, who was following us with the smallest girl. "Do you have any more ingredients?"

Link chuckles good-naturedly, and rummages in the bag on his hip, while she picks up a nearby ladle. He steps up to the cooking pot, lifting the flap of his bag to show her the goods.

"Hmm." She creases her little forehead, and into her mouth goes the handle of the ladle in deep thought. Suddenly her eyes widen. "Oh!"

She pulls Link down to her level by his arm, and whispers in his ear – I strain, but I managed to miss most of her words, and couldn't make sense of what she said. I tilt my head in confusion. Link looks up, and winks at me.

The little girl – Koko – thrusts her hand into the bag and pulls out a few slightly dented and dinged apples, placing them carefully into the hot pot. They start to sizzle and pop, the skins peeling apart. Then, she opens a pack of butter at one end and carefully smears the inside of the pot in a ring around the sizzling apples. The hot fat sputters, but she doesn't seem to mind the spitting. Next, she produces an orange lump and drops it into the pot before I could tell what it is, and bashes it with her ladle. Finally she sprinkles it with a pinch of something, watching the granules fall into the pot with a squint, and then she agitates the apples in the warm mixture.

It smells delicious. After a few minutes of watching the apples roll in the pot, she ladles them out into a wooden dish and thrusts them out towards Link and I.

"Oh, she says, suddenly retracting the plate. "Do you have a sharp knife? Daddy cuts them up for me. I'm not allowed."

I thought of my field knife nestled in my pouch, then I realised it was probably covered in unspeakable substances. I had a sudden horrible image of Link whipping out the Master Sword to cut the tiny apples, so I unsheath it and quietly bent down so as to cauterise the blade quickly in the flames.

"Here we are," I say to her. "How do you think we should cut it?"

"In four," she instructs, "so there's enough for everyone. That's how Mama did it: a piece for Mama and Daddy, and a piece for Cottla and me."

I slice the apple as instructed, the knife going smoothly through the softened flesh, and I give the first piece a brief touch with my knuckle: it's hot as a coal.

"It cools down quick," nods Koko with the authority of someone who had cooked apples many times. I am impressed. I certainly didn't know how to cook when I was her age – everything was done for me, of course.

Link and Koko, the braver ones, bite into their scorching snacks first, followed by a tentative nibble from me. Cottla peels the skin off the edges first, much to her sister's disgust, while I struggle to contain my delight at the hot, buttery sweetness of the snack.

"Koko," I say after swallowing the first mouthful, "I've never had an apple like this."

Koko goes incredibly pink, right across her nose and both cheeks.

"Say thank you," orders Dorian, who I hadn't realised was watching behind us.

"Thank you, Princess," says Koko politely to my feet, before mouthing " _I was gonna say it!_ " at her father.

I lick my lips and giggle. Link is making very short work of his snack as usual. I wonder if he'd even eat the core. I've certainly seen him eat stranger things. He doesn't this time: as he pops the clean core onto the empty plate, I notice a small drop of juice making its way from the corner of his mouth.

His arm raises to brush it away, his eyes on the apples in the burner, until my hand gets there first.

He feels the first touch of my fingers against his skin and looks at me in surprise. His blue eyes a few inches from mine, I smile as a blush creeps over my face. The gesture seemed to take forever. The corner of his mouth where I touched him twitched, then arched into a small smile.

To hide my excitement, and perhaps to stop anything escalating, I bend down to the children, who look up at me earnestly.

"Do you know who else really, really likes apples?"

"No?" says Koko, while Cottla shakes her head.

I smile, tossing my hair. "My horse does."

The two girls squeal.

 _A/N:_

 _Things Link probably uses the Master Sword for: anything_

 _Things Link should probably not use the Master Sword for: most things_

 _Let's be honest: if you had one, you would, wouldn't you?_


	18. An Exploration, of Sorts

**EIGHTEEN  
AN EXPLORATION, OF SORTS  
**

* * *

 _Princess Zelda_

* * *

I felt a little bad for Dorian – there was no way, after the word 'horse' had escaped my lips, that the girls were not absolutely positively coming to see the horses. I should really have asked him first, but I was so caught up in everything.

Koko insisted on carrying the apples, even though she had promised that Cottla would get to feed at least one of the horses – probably my Sari, as she was more comfortable around other people. Before we headed off, I asked Link if he had his Sheikah slate. He patted his side before dashing up to Impa's home quickly to retrieve it, while we made our way slowly to the paddock.

My hands clasped by a child on each side, as we drew closer to the horses the girls started to whisper excitedly. Khalil spotted us, and smelling the apples, began to nudge and jostle against Sari, who whinnied indignantly.

 _Hmm, are horses prone to take after their owners?_

Link approaches, jogging gently to catch up with us, and Dorian lifts Cottla up to Sari with the apple in both her hands. With a bow of her graceful head, my mare gobbles up the apple. Impatiently, Khalil whinnies loudly, making Koko and her sister jump.

"Wait your turn!" I scold him, as Koko approaches with the apple. I turn to the timid girl. "Don't worry, he's just greedy, he won't hurt."

She lifts the apple up with one hand, squeezing her eyes shut, and Khalil chomps down on it with his huge teeth. He neighs in gratitude, tossing his grey mane, and Koko giggles.

"Pet," says Cottla, stretching her hands out towards my Sari, and her father brings her a little closer so she can run her hands down the horse's long white mane. Patiently, Sari allows the toddler to heavy-handedly groom her for a few moments, before turning her head politely but firmly away.

"Dorian," I ask, as he puts his daughter back down and straightens up with a faint grimace, "would you mind untying both the horses? Link has something to show me nearby. Don't worry, we won't leave the village."

If Link is confused by my statement, he very politely doesn't let on. Dorian tells his girls to run on home, and reluctant as they are, they eventually do as they are told, hand in hand.

"Are you sure I can't accompany you, your Highness?" Dorian hands me the reins as Link climbs swiftly into the saddle. Khalil is already tossing his head, desperate for a little exercise.

"No thank you," I assure him. "We're not going far; just to stretch the horses' legs."

We trot off, with me in the lead. Link didn't ask where we were going, but eventually I had to turn around to him.

"Where is the nearby Shrine?"

With a glint in his eye, he draws Khalil alongside me, and turns us off the path into a densely wooded area. Just a few trees in, we find we have to dismount. Link lashes the horses together by the saddles, and then ties the reins to a thick branch. He pats Khalil's flank, and then beckons for me to follow.

The woods are a little dank-smelling, and I see mushrooms dotted everywhere among the tree roots. Link picks a few of the larger ones and stows them in his pack, never one to resist a quick forage. There are even some herbs nearby which he almost approaches, then with a guilty look back, he falls back onto the path.

There is a small pond in a misty clearing with a rickety, man-made bridge of stained logs tied together. I cross it with Link ahead of me, trying not to worry about whether it might be slippery or unstable, and definitely not looking at the stagnant water underneath and wondering how deep it is. Instead, I focus on the tuft of blond hair sticking out of Link's ponytail, following it steadily.

The shrine sits there in the mist, as if it had always been: glowing a soft peaceful blue like the luminescent stones of Zora architecture, bathing everything nearby in a mystical light.

"Amazing!" I cry, stepping onto the plinth, running my hand across the stone slick with mossy marks. "They're all unique, yet they fit the same, universal design and purpose."

Link watches me with patient puzzlement. I turn to him.

"Well?" I ask with a wry smile. "Aren't you going to show me how it works?"

After Link had described to me the process of 'descending' into the shrine, I couldn't help but feel a little nervous.

"Will I be travel-sick?" I didn't want to chance it, and risk having to walk back to village with… well, I just didn't want anything unpleasant to happen. Nervous anticipation wasn't getting me inside the shrine any faster, so I stood on the panel, like he had just described.

"Just show me," I insist. "Show me quickly, please."

He walks over to me with the slate in his hand, before wrapping his arm around my waist, hugging my waist close to his.

I feel a strange tingling sensation that I'm sure might have had a little something to do with the closeness of him. He whispers softly, his breath tickling in my ear, warning me to close my eyes, just as the floor below us begins to move. I squeeze my eyes shut, and when I open them again, we are inside a hall much bigger than the outside of the shrine had me believe could be possible.

I look down at my hands as streaks of blue light run across my fingers like water droplets, and saw we are stood in a shaft of pale light.

Link takes my hand and leads me out of the shaft. I glance left and right, stepping slowly. _Oh, why didn't I bring my notes?_ The inner sanctum is dark, with more of the ambient blue lighting up the walls, and there are steps leading to a pedestal with an opened chest. Slightly further up from that, I see an altar. I drop Link's hand and race up the steps, darting past the empty chest, until I come to the altar.

It looks ancient, yet untouched. I long to run a palm along the surface, but something holds me back.

"What lay here before?" I ask Link.

He takes the slate out, activates the screen, and brings up a picture. I'm glad he didn't give me the slate to hold, because what is on the screen makes me gasp, and nearly fall down the stairs. It is a desiccated human body, posed cross-legged with its bony hands in a triangular shape, its eyes sunken into its mummified face.

"They… they starved themselves in place?"

Link nods. He explains that most were sat or prone in meditation poses, making the sacred symbol of the Triforce, holding amulets or similar items of tribute. They waited to fulfil their destiny, and then simply faded away, having achieved it upon Link's completion of their task.

He explains that they gift him with a power he exchanges at the places of prayer – so that was why he went frequently to kneel before the Goddess. I realised I hadn't been to kneel at any of the altars since we had been in the village. Maybe it was about time that I did.

Link remains patient while I poke around the shrine some more, but clearly the sight has become mundane to him. I wonder how many in total he had discovered and unlocked. I took a few pictures of the strange writings around the base of the altar, and then reluctantly I take a few pointed steps toward the entrance of the shrine.

To help me down the staircase, he takes my hand, and we walk towards the shaft of glowing light. We lift our gripped hands over the top of the chest, each walking either side as we approach the last set of stairs.

I slow down, and so does he. Maybe he doesn't want to go back yet?

I turn to him as he turns in to me, and he clasps my other hand in his.

"Thank you," I say breathily, my voice catching in my throat, "For bringing me here."

It felt like so long since I'd looked at him up close. Being caught glancing sometimes feels like a crime, so I barely had chance to reacquaint myself with the finer details of his familiar face: the very light freckles across the bridge of his nose, the little scar between his eyebrows that was so neat it could have been put there by design, the startling blue of his eyes. I am acutely aware of the sound of his breathing. He is breathing deeply, like he does in deep sleep, when I've awoken early in the morning for the briefest moment and overheard the comforting sound.

Is he looking at me, too, and seeing something familiar? Something that he appreciates?

 _This is a little too close_ , I think, and I try to remember Impa's earlier advice: _duty is… a thing that you have much time… for my people, and Link is… Link is…_

Link is close enough to slide one of his hands out of my grasp, folding my hand over his deftly until he grips my wrist, travelling up the sleeve of my jacket and beyond the collar so his cool fingers touch my neck, caressing the taut line of hair under my messy plait, his fingers tenting, pushing my head forward. I close my eyes, reaching out with my other hand, touching his waist, the softness of him against my palm…

Our lips touch for the second time, but now, he is not urgent to keep me from drowning. This is a different type of urgency. I feel it too, and I rock forward on the ball of the foot placed in front, pressing our mouths and faces closer together.

Everything inside my head goes quiet. I could hear a pin drop in there. Suddenly his lips part and my head is filled with the sounds that would be coming out of my occupied mouth. He rubs the nape of my neck tenderly with his fingers, his other hand on my waist, sneaking around to the small of my back. I bend gently backwards, like a tree caught in a breeze, almost swooning as he presses his body against mine.

Oh, I've never been touched like this; even while dancing, even while he carried me or lifted me, or tried to soothe me after the lake incident, this touch of his is without need… it is full of want. I don't think I have ever, ever known what it is to have someone wanting me.

I press my body into him tighter and he grips me so firmly around the waist with both arms that I gasp into his mouth. We both blindly bend and suddenly we are on our knees on the ground, his hand back in my hair, and both of mine grabbing handfuls of his tunic, feeling his lithe frame underneath it. Frantic grasps knock his bow and quiver from his back, with a clatter and flash the arrows fall everywhere. We kiss faster, our lips parting and meeting each other, making one long embrace into a thousand little kisses, panting for breath in between. I sink further to the floor, the heel of my boots scraping as he tilts me back so that I am almost laid down in his arms. His mouth wanders down the sharp line of my jaw, below my sensitive ears, where his nose and lips reach such soft skin that I feel like I have suddenly rolled onto one of his shock arrows, and the bolt is piercing me deeply. His hand comes around to the front of my jacket and he runs a finger along its seam…

A hideous CLANG! stops us both in our tracks. He draws his head away and we open our eyes.

"My shield," he whispers. My busy hands have knocked it from his back, and it slipped over the staircase and hit the floor. I look back at him, suppressing a laugh, but then I see the look in his eyes.

He is looking at my mouth. His eyes trace my jaw and the nape of my neck, following the trail his lips set mere moments ago, and when he realises his hands are still on me he yanks them away with a gasp. I nearly smack my head on the hard ground.

"Forgive me," he says, staring at his hands. He pulls away from me before I can stop him, or grab at him. I've never seen him panicked like this. _But it was he that kissed me!_

He struggles to his feet, grabbing his errant weaponry and racing into the shaft. "Forgive me," he gasps again, and before I can cry out to him, he is upon the panel, which raises him upwards. He is gone.

For a second, I am full of rage. _He's stranded me here, in his dumb panic! I can't get out of here without the blasted slate!_

Like a hot ember, the rage burns for a little while as I pick myself up and dust down my leggings. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty. Yes, the platform is definitely not coming back. As the rage subsides, I feel a huge rush of emptiness, like a vacuum created by the death of my sudden flame of anger, sucking everything out of me.

I put my face in my hands and breathe through my fingers, fighting the urge to cry. _Not again today, please_.

* * *

 _A huge thank you for my reviews, especially from regular readers - you all really brighten my day with your kind feedback. I apologise if I haven't contacted you personally to thank you, but I promise I will try to remember to!_


	19. The Touch of the Fairy (Link)

**NINETEEN**  
 **THE TOUCH OF THE FAIRY**

* * *

 _Master Link of Hyrule_

* * *

I run, and I run, going at it so hard that I almost trip and fall over my own feet; I run in disbelief like a wild animal flees the hunt.

I never run. This isn't my way. But I, who can talk myself into or out of almost anything, I cannot excuse what I have done this time.

I kissed her. She didn't stop me, but how could she? I gave her no choice. What exactly just happened, and how? I try to think as I run, but I can't go back to the village just yet, not with my head in such a state, and surely, I must have guilt written all over my face.

She – the Princess, who I am bound only to protect and nothing else, took me to the shrine. That much was her idea. But kissing her was entirely mine.

She accepted my hand, with a strange but serene look on her face as if it was a most natural thing to do; and then she let me take the other and hold her about the waist, as Sidon had held her at the festival, and then she was searching my face as if she were looking at a picture book from her childhood, and I saw all the same delight as when she has found a new specimen, or when she has successfully synthesised a new potion for me to try out.

And then I indulged in treason. 'Light treason', as my brother would have put it, and I can feel his nudge in my ribs as if I were back home watching the procession as a young apprentice, and noticing the King's beautiful, shy young daughter for the first time.

Din's breath, I miss him so. I miss Arul, not least because he taught me most of the things I know about people: where Father filled my knowledge of how to fight them and win, Arul taught me how to win them with charm. I saw many a girl strike his cheek, but many others he got to kiss it, just as easily.

Now the only 'brother' I can think of to ask for advice, I'm unable to. It's likely Sidon would step immediately aside if he even suspected my feelings for Zelda, but something noble done so willingly doesn't make it any easier to do. I wished when he told me his plans to unite their two kingdoms the other evening I could have reached over and blocked his mouth, or knotted my ears shut.

As my mind wanders, I wonder briefly if I have been the Princess' first kiss. I shake my head as I plod around the trees, fumbling and stumbling, trying to push any single satisfactory thought from my head.

I do not regret _my_ first kiss. I have mixed feelings regarding my first everything else.

I remember Arul's stories about Sirens, a type of legendary water Fairy which lures a mate with a sweet song, and then has what he called 'their wicked way' with the unsuspecting traveller. Until I encountered a tiny maiden, no taller than my hand held up, I had dismissed fairies as… well, just as made-up creatures.

They gravitate towards me, as do most things that cause trouble.

And then I found the first fountain, dutifully threw my Rupees into the stagnant water, and watched as a giant and beautiful woman appeared, all too eager to help me create and enhance my armour in exchange for a few trinkets I picked up on my quest. I knew being a collector of useful things would end up paying off.

There is certainly something dangerously intoxicating about being close to a powerful woman. I can feel it when I approach the fountains, and all over Gerudo, and whenever I am near to Princess Zelda, even back when she was determined to be as far away from me as possible.

The more fountains I found and recovered, the more the fairies seemed to enjoy my presence, and the more liberties they took: they would demand the clothing right off my back, and blown kisses became a kissed finger touched to my bare chest, which became kisses all over my weary body, which culminated on one occasion where I asked for a set to be enhanced to its full defensive capacity. I dropped gemstones, creatures and offal into her pool as she watched hungrily, batting her long lashes, her giant chest heaving with deep, slow breaths, and before I knew it I was snatched in one huge hand and dragged into the offering pool.

As the rush of bubbles cleared, I saw her, suddenly the same proportion as I was, and her face with its glittering paint and red lips in front of me. I clutched and pawed at my throat, hoping she would realise, and she pressed her ruby lips to mine, bestowing me with an everlasting breath as she dragged me further under. Intoxicated, and unable to kick my legs, I let her take my hand and swim with me downward.

Little crystal lights seemed to glow everywhere, like in a volcanic cavern, as they lit up her luminescent skin and the beads about her breastplate. She stopped swimming, our hair entwining in the water, and took both of my hands.

I cannot remember that first fantastic meeting of our bodies in sequence any more, although I am occasionally prone to remembering the fairy's hands all over my body in my lonelier occasions, and how by the time she had asked my permission, I told her I didn't want her to stop. But now, with the benefit of hindsight, I fill up with shame as I remember feeling my innocence slip away, and instead of fighting for it, I watched it ebb into the waters with a smile.

Now, I swear I am furious with the fairy, when really I am angry with myself. I know my blind wandering has taken me away from the shrine and towards the very fountain where my memory was once real. I snap a branch off a nearby tree and fling it in the vague direction of the fountain, but all this does is make me feel foolish.

I feel a further stab of pain as I remember that the recipient of my first kiss is long passed. I have made as much peace with it as I possibly could, given the circumstances. I remember how we both talked about what might happen to both or either of us, but young as we were, I don't think we were prepared for the reality of the situation. We skirted around the topic until neither of us could even talk to each other any more. And I certainly wasn't prepared to fall in love again, almost immediately afterwards.

 _What did you think could ever happen?_ I ask myself. _That you and Princess Zelda would fall in love, marry, have children? She is a Princess, and you are nothing but her battered shield._

My own words are too cruel, even for me. And now I have grossly overstepped the boundaries between the Princess and me. It seems that every time my body is tested, my mind is nowhere to be seen in the ultimate decision.

I crouch down, checking the ground is dry, and then I sit with my legs folded under me and I breathe as slowly as I can, as deeply as possible. I try to understand that there are more important things in this world than the life and loves of a young Hylian man, even though as I say this I am thinking of how wonderful it was to touch her, and have her kiss and touch me with an urgency that met my own. Maybe that was all I am allowed, and maybe for now, that would be enough.

I glance around the wooded area that I have come to know reasonably well, and I see the beams of low evening light piercing the trees, and I can hear the village in the distance winding down. It is almost time to retire to bed, but I know we will need to return to Impa and finalise our plans. I never took her for the strategist type, but she seems to have a plan for myself, Sidon, and a group of warriors.

I will just accompany the Princess to – _oh Goddess, the Princess!_

* * *

 _Thanks everyone for your kind comments, jokes, Ron Burgundy quotes :D... This game has meant so much to me and now it really makes me happy that people are enjoying where I am taking the characters. Thank you all._

 _Arul is, of course, named after Aryll (The Wind Waker)._

 _I Like Chickens: I'm so glad you mentioned Kass! He will be arriving in Chapter 39...I know that's a long wait, but he is winging his way to us (pun intended)._


	20. Zelda's Account: Rejection

**TWENTY**  
 **ZELDA'S ACCOUNT: REJECTION**

* * *

 _Princess Zelda_

* * *

I cry a few tears, and not as hard as I did earlier, mainly because I am worried a sob might shatter my head open. The air is stifling in here, stale and suffocating. How long has it been since Link abandoned me here, after kissing me so passionately?

 _Is that all he wanted from me?_ No, that can't be true, he would never be that cruel. Was there something in the shrine here that caused him to act so impulsively?

I don't want to move. I can still remember the touch of his fingers at the back of my neck; his hand around my waist, settled in the small of my back, the way we gave in to our passion and sank to the floor… if my clumsy hands hadn't knocked away his shield, where would we be now?

My blood runs hotter than lava, and I would be ashamed of myself could I not still feel his body under my fingertips, and almost taste his lips, and feel him pressing against me like no-one before him. I pant, wondering if the temperature has risen again.

 _Oh, Link! Please come back, even if not to let me out of this wretched prison! At least come back and touch me once again…_

He materialises, always at the most crucial moment, panting and heaving like I am. He crashes to his knees, nearly smashing the slate upon the stony ground, bowing so low that his forehead nudges it.

"Forgive me," he almost sobs, "oh, please forgive me. I- I-"

He raises his reddened face, and sees that I am confused rather than angry. My heart becomes overfilled just looking at him.

"Come," he insists, beckoning me to my feet as he gets up on his. Why will he not help me up with those hands that were all over me just now? "Please Princess, I'll get you out. Come with me."

He steps with me onto the elevated stone, enveloped in the light, and we are raised up again. I close my eyes, and although we are near, we are barely touching, doing it only because we have to share the same small space.

Before we are barely at the top, I try to step out in front of him, stumbling on my uneasy legs, my back to the outside world.

"Link, will you please look at me?"

He does. His gaze is weak, and I can tell he is thinking of something else. Where has this Link suddenly come from? Is he really the same one that took me to the shrine, and then bravely stole my first kiss?

I close my eyes and lean in towards him, opening them just where our lips should meet. He has turned his head and swelled his chest, pushing me a little further away without the rudeness of a direct shove. I bring my lips closer, and meet the neat edge of his jaw.

He sighs, but it is a sigh devoid of passion now. This time, it seems like a sigh of impatience.

I stand back in disbelief and survey him. Is this really it? He, the initiator of our little passion-play, won't acknowledge what passed between us?

"Look at me," I say. He does as he is told. Quickly, I dart in again, armed with a kiss, and he steps back, and I stagger.

His cruelty cuts me. Feeling wounded and foolish, I glare, letting the anger twist my features – _who cares now if he doesn't like what he sees?_ He is staring at some point just behind my head, as if I don't even exist.

 ** _SMACK!_**

I barely register any thought process behind the action I take as I clout the side of his face with my palm. My whole hand stings – _dearest Hylia, is he made of iron?_ His eyes are closed and his face turned, then he slowly turns his head back into a neutral position.

My blood is rushing in my ears like the sounds of a river. Why, why did I do that?! What do I do now? Hit him again? Weep in front of him?

He does nothing but apologise, and that is the last straw.

I turn on my heel and march away, straight across the bridge, with any fear of the rickety slats replaced by my white hot fury. I know there is nowhere for me to go but Impa's, for our next discussion. _Good! I could put some of this martial rage to fine use!_

I know that he is following me. I know it without even looking around. I wheel about and find him halfway across the bridge with his head bowed. Now he cannot even look at me.

I should be full of disgust, but I am torn between pushing him into the pond or clinging to him like a child until he acknowledges that he might have feelings for me.

 _Even if it was simply lust, in the heat of the moment, I think. That would be something._

Deep down within my maelstrom of emotions, I realise that this is a chance to use my governing skills. I cannot beat an unruly subject into submission, nor can I weaponise myself. I will speak to him like a subject, calm and collected, even if I am furious.

"We're going back to Impa's, to discuss our next course of action," I call, trying not to spit my words at him. He looks up at me, and I'm sure I can see him expressing something I've never seen before, with those bright eyes: could that be defeat?

No, I cannot read what I want in other people. From now on, I will see things for what they are. Our kiss just now was just a kiss, and if it meant nothing more to him, it should mean nothing more to me.

I let him follow me down the path at a safe distance, but his footsteps seem heavier than before, as if he is carrying a bunch of heavy equipment on his shoulders. He unties Khalil and Sari, wordlessly hands me the reins, and we walk the horses back.

Dorian is waiting for us at the top of the main village path. Filled with relief, he seems to age backwards by a decade when he sees us.

"I hope your visit to the shrine was fruitful, your Highness?"

"Yes," I reply, as clearly and curtly as I can. "Most fruitful indeed."

If Link hears my hidden meaning, he doesn't react. We walk to the front of Impa's house in silence, with Dorian bidding us a good night at the bottom of the staircase.

I suddenly notice the little shrines, behind Dorian's post, at the foot of the staircase: there are five apples, one placed in each little altar. I think of the apple sketch I hold in my pocket, then of apple juice, and my heart cries out like a wounded animal, before I set my features like stone and head up towards the doors, with the man who rejected me at my side, as he always will be.

* * *

 _A/N: Sorry that updates have been really sporadic - I'm taking advantage of the fact that I've planned really far ahead because I don't know how regularly I'll be writing over the next few months. If chapters are short, like these last few, I'll update every day or other day. As the chapters lengthen I might space out a bit further to give everyone a fair shot at catching up._

 _Thanks all for the kind reviews, once more. I am really thrilled._


	21. Link's Account: Necessity (Link)

**TWENTY-ONE**  
 **LINK'S ACCOUNT: NECESSITY  
**

* * *

 _Master Link of Hyrule_

* * *

For the second time this hour, I am wondering how I could be so foolish.

As I materialise in front of the Princess, I count my luck that she is not angry with me. In fact, she seems relieved. I take quick advantage, and go to pull her up from the floor where I rudely abandoned her.

 _No_ , I think. _We must not touch! Imagine you are back in the Castle, and imagine what you would not do in front of her father!_

This is a good rule. I hurry her onto the platform, our hands barely touching. I am dying for a gasp of fresh air, and as we materialise out of the shrine I take a good lungful. My head has never felt so weightless, my hands so numb.

 _She is not yours, Link. She never was, and never will be. You have made yourself a sinner and a seductor, no better than the fairy, who you wrongly blame for her seduction of you._

I must undo the damage I have just done.

She steps weakly in front of me, and I let her find her own footing, conflicted and disgraced with myself. She is searching my face for something, once again, maybe something I might give away with a careless expression. I leave my face as blank as I can, imagining she is a foe, checking for a weakness.

I remember before we became familiar, the long silences between us and how at first, I let them foster. It might be damaging to our relationship to go back to that state… but maybe we have gone too far in the other direction.

I remain calm and silent on the exterior, while my emotions pound my insides like rocks in a plunge pool, crushed by the waterfall.

"Link, will you please look at me?"

I know what she will do even before _she_ knows, I think. As her lips search for mine, I turn my head slowly, and her lips softly brush against my jawline. My heart races, but I must not let anything show. Back to the way things were, with me repressing every emotion I ever thought I might have had, until repression was the normal state, and emotions were as faint as a line in the sand.

It would be a terrifying practise, like gradually losing my sight after years of perfect vision, but it would put us back as we should be: she the Princess, and me her loyal servant.

She draws back sharply, a little gasp leaving her, as if she cannot believe my impudence. I can feel a sigh building up, and I let it out as evenly and as quietly as I can.

"Look at me!"

Her voice cracks. I can see the hurt I'm causing her, and I wish with all my heart that I'd thought clearly before kissing her.

All of the physical pain I have felt, strangely, I cannot remember: bones have been broken, Guardians have shot me with their laser fire, and skin has torn painfully, slowly apart and had to knit itself back together as I watched the wounds for sepsis. I remember injuries that hurt so badly that I cried or vomited or worse, but it's as if my brain is telling me that all those things once happened without the evidence to convincingly reminding me. Like somebody is telling me the story of my own body. Perhaps it is yet another side-effect of my restorative sleep.

But this pain I feel now with stay within me until I die, like a broken arrow.

She strikes me across the face as quick as a flash, and reasonably hard. My cheek stings and reddens, and I keep my head turned in case she wants to strike again. Somehow, she doesn't, and I hear her footsteps beat away.

She won't want me to, but I know I must follow her. I do so at what I think is a safe distance. Halfway to the path, she turns on her heel. I am stood on the log bridge, most of the way across.

I am in danger of leaking emotion, like a broken vessel. I don't look at her, instead bowing my head, which she hopefully sees as a sign of contrition. If I look at her, the game is up: I don't know if I am brave enough to risk another embrace, simply because I am unsure if I can endure the pain of having to pull away from her again. It is best this way.

She says we should going back to Impa's, and I instantly know that this could be close to the last time we see each other: I know that the plan is for a group of us, led by me, to infiltrate the Yiga hideout in Gerudo. The Princess will certainly not be coming with us if Impa and I get our say in things, but this will drive us apart faster than all my stoic silences combined.

I can only look at her, pleading somewhere behind my eyes, saying what I cannot say, knowing I will risk another slap – or worse for both of us, another kiss.

Will she understand?

She does not love me: I am sure of it. Maybe she believes she does, but she must be mistaking her feelings for something else: dependence? Yes, she has come to depend on me, and it is time to break that dependency: for she will someday be a Queen, and I a retired Knight, if I am supremely lucky to live long enough. Perhaps if after all of this she still looks favourably upon me, I can hope to become a well-paid and respected General, if I haven't ruined my chances.

I can tell myself that it's enough. I can tell myself all I want, but a broken heart won't listen.


	22. The War Meeting (Impa)

**TWENTY TWO**  
 **THE WAR MEETING**

* * *

 _Impa, of the Sheikah Tribe_

* * *

Something has gone terribly wrong.

Paya, who is always a good human barometer, is close to tears and anxious even before anyone shows up for the meeting. She was such a fussy child when she was little; her mother and I worried she was sick, although no doctor could say for certain what was wrong with her. Once she was old enough to speak sense, her mother and I noticed she complained of headaches the night before a thunderstorm, stomach-aches the day before bad news broke, and on one notable occasion, a fainting fit before one of our number was murdered.

Now, she has sucked her lower lip into her mouth and is nibbling it furiously, eyes shining. She'll be lucky not to have a sore tomorrow.

Link and Princess Zelda have faces as dark as any storm cloud. Even Sidon is unusually quiet, although I wonder if he tires late in the evenings. I don't recall him having been near water today.

Everyone sips tea or fresh water. The young ones kneel about the table again. It's strange to believe that my dining table and my front room are about to become a war room. Dorian and Cado stand inside the closed doors, arms folded across broad chests, mirroring each other just as they do when standing guard outside.

Prince Sidon unfolds his arms, flexing his shoulders. I know the floor is too low for him, and I wonder why he doesn't simply stand or ask for a stool. I believe that at his full height, he would be quite close to my ceiling.

"So," he begins, "What do we know of the Yiga clan?"

There is a rustle, and Link produces the Sheikah slate and lays it on the table. Everyone, including my two guards, cranes forward a little to see the small screen better. Link uses his fingers to zoom the map in over the Gerudo desert.

"Hideout located here," he says bluntly, pointing at a marked square on the map. "Well guarded."

"How well guarded?" interjects Dorian. "Are we talking dozens, or hundreds? Generals, or foot soldiers?"

"Both." Link opens another menu, slides through a few pictures until he finds a blurry, very dark picture of what looks like an old warehouse. It looks like he was somewhere up high when he took it: we can all see the layout of the room, and many red-clad figures patrolling the walkways.

"So, these Generals are the larger fellows?" asks Sidon, touching a red figure on the slate with a large finger. He causes the screen to slide about; Link holds it in place, and then pushes the tablet towards the Prince, who picks it up. "They were fiendish, but not invincible."

"There must be a higher rank than a General," says the Princess thoughtfully. "Link killed their leader, Kohga, a good few months ago. There will have been a successor, if not straight away, then surely by now."

Link laughs mirthlessly, and the Princess' head points quickly in his direction, angrily. He blinks a few times, surprised by her reaction. "I mean to say, having fought Kohga, I do not believe the Yiga place their faith in the strongest leader. Merely the one with the most…" He struggles for a word. "…character?"

"So if we were to amass a strong enough force," reasons Sidon, "The Yiga would not be much of a threat?"

Dorian is shifting uncomfortably. Before he speaks, I speak for him:

"With respect, I don't believe we are treating the Yiga with the caution they deserve. Please, be mindful of how many of my people they have killed. And they show no discrimination: women, children."

Princess Zelda touches her hand briefly to her chest. "Prince Sidon," she says after a moment, "With great respect, I do not believe you should become directly involved in this. The Yiga have left your people alone thus far, and I should like to keep it that way."

Sidon shakes his head, his fins moving gracefully. "I appreciate your concern, Zelda," he begins. I am shocked! Where has he found the familiarity to call the Princess by her first given name? Princess Zelda seems not to be bothered by it, but the others present all seem to react to it in some small way or another.

The Prince continues, none the wiser: "But I believe we would call that wilful ignorance. To not act upon something that affects our brethren Hylians, and their reigning Monarch, would be an unthinkable act."

Link leans forward. "The Gerudo desert can go from one extreme temperature to the other," he explains. "The days are scorching, and the nights freeze. There are snow-capped peaks the other side of the hideout, sandstorms near the entrance. We must be well prepared for all climates."

"Then we will be," says Sidon confidently.

"If I may," says the Princess, "I might have found another way to help you, Sidon." She delves into her belt bag and produces a small, leather-bound notebook that I recognise as her case study book.

I am incredibly satisfied to see it again. I remember stowing that notebook away from her father, keeping it safe in my room, under my cot. As she thumbs through I notice the neat writing and the little diagrams: she has certainly been keeping on with her research.

"Link and I have discovered that elixirs cooked with different parts of common animals – usually cooked for their meat – can have different properties," she explains, her speech picking up as she enters research mode. She folds back the spine of the book, spins it around and shows Sidon a diagram. From the polite yet puzzled look on his face, she might have had more luck showing the picture to her horse.

"Meaning that you think there may be something I could eat… which might help?"

The Princess nods enthusiastically. "Yes, I believe so. Although, pardon me, I have never tried something like these on a Zora."

"There are dishes we enjoy at home which are said to have similar effects," he answers her, "And I have never shown any adverse reaction. I would be happy to submit myself to your research." He spreads his arms, with a beaming smile.

"We need more than a few men," interrupts Dorian. "We need an army. The Yiga must be wiped out once and for all. They stand against the Sheikah, against Hyrule, against the Princess-"

"The Gerudo," says Link, sitting upright with a brighter look on his face than he has had all evening. "They are near to the lair, and aware of the Yiga threat. If I were to speak to their Chief once more, I am sure we could find support from them."

Princess Zelda nods slowly and thoughtfully. "Good," she says curtly.

"This is going so well!" beams Sidon. "Well done to Link, and his many allies!"

He clasps his friend on the shoulder, but Link seems not to register much of any approval. Where Sidon may have a little too much optimism, Link suddenly seems to have none.

"I would like to leave as early as possible," Link says quietly. "I can make my way into Gerudo using the slate, if his Highness Prince Sidon would like to leave when I return a few days later, following sufficient research."

Sidon nods.

"I would suggest," continues Link, "that I will leave at dawn."

Everyone agrees, except Zelda, who blurts out, "What?"

She composes herself, as everyone turns to her. "I mean – yes. Perhaps it is best you leave sooner."

"Dorian and Cado will take Link's place as your bodyguards," I assure her, wondering if her panic is merely at the thought being left unguarded, or something else. My men both nod. "And you will stay here, where it is safest for you, Highness."

"Very well," she answers, "thank you."

Dorian shifts his feet very slightly. I know that part of him must wish to go with the younger ones, and fight the very foes that took his wife. I must speak with him later, although he does not know that I know of the shame and heartache he carries. His daughters are much too young to lose both parents, I think, with a glance at my quiet Paya.

"How will we hear from you?" Sidon asks Link. "How will you be able to tell us that you have succeeded in your campaign with the Gerudo?"

Link opens his mouth, and then closes it. "I suppose I could use the slate to travel back," he begins.

"But then you would travel back again, leaving us at least-" he checks the slate again, "-Three days' travel away."

Link turns his gaze to me. "Lady Impa, is there a way the slate could carry more than one person? Or a faster way to travel across the desert?"

I twist my mouth about as I think. "Possibly. If there were any way, I know that my sister in Hateno would know. Perhaps you ought to visit her first, before making your way to the Gerudo. With that in mind perhaps it would be best if you left sooner than 'as soon as possible'."

Link pushes himself away from the table with his hands and folds into a bow, his hands splayed on the ground, and his forehead meeting them. He stands carefully.

"I will gather provisions," he says, taking a deep breath, "and then I will be leaving."

Nobody says anything for a moment, though we are all aware that he is politely awaiting dismissal. Princess Zelda lifts her tea to her mouth coolly and takes a small sip. She is stalling.

I am not a person who feels the need to know the affairs of others, unlike that irksome Hylian who comes by with her little book of gossip. But I would give a week's supply of tea to know what recently transpired between them. Dorian told me they had gone to inspect the shrine near the fountain, and they can't have been gone more than an hour. Had they perhaps spoken of their burgeoning feelings for one another? Had one rebuffed the other? Worse: had I accidentally encouraged it?

"Please leave when you are ready," the Princess finally says to her Champion without looking at him. She is swilling her tea with a little too much vigour than is necessary. "I will be fine here, under Dorian and Cado's care."

Link bows to her, then respectfully to Sidon and I, and then he heads out of the door, sliding it gently closed behind him. I assume he is heading down to the store to pack for his journey. The Princess slowly places her teacup back in its saucer.

Sidon loudly slaps his fins together, startling most of the room, and I hear Cado mutter an unrepeatable word under his breath.

"It is settled then! Lady Impa, may I request a brief refreshing dip in the moat outside before I retire for the night?"

"You are welcome, Highness. Please, feel free to stay at the Inn. Unfortunately, with two young ladies here tonight, it would be inappropriate to board you here."

"I completely understand," smiles Sidon.

"Prince Sidon could have my bed, if he likes," Paya suddenly gabbles, before turning a bright hue of pink visible even in the muted lighting. "I mean, not with- I could stay at the Inn-"

"Not necessary, thank you Paya," I say before she gets herself any further into trouble. "I believe this meeting has been a success. Thank you all for coming, and we will meet briefly again in the early morning."

As Dorian and Cado bow and file out to begin their night watch duties, I order Paya to make the beds upstairs for herself and Princess Zelda. She seems to appreciate having a private moment to cover her shame. The Princess stays seated until her tea is finished. She seems to be slowly processing everything that transpired tonight.

"I shall retire now, Lady Impa," she says, standing after the teacup and pot are taken away by a busy Paya. "It is late, and I will need to be up to bid my Champion goodbye in a few hours."

"Princess," I say, as soon as Paya has ascended the stairs, "I feel I must remind you that Master Link cannot be with you always. There will be times when-"

She sweeps past me, and up the opposite set of stairs, and without even a glance in my direction she retorts, "There are things I do not need to be reminded of."

I am taken aback, but not surprised. That was a voice I have not heard since she was young, and a tone of voice I believe she has not used since, either. I only hope that their mutual heartache will not lead to poor decisions, but then I remember everything I decided was best for myself as a young adult, and I can only watch and let them make the mistakes I did all those decades ago.

* * *

 _A/N: Sorry for the lack of update over the weekend, I was at CoxCon in Telford, UK. I met loads of great people!_

 _Speaking of great people, I was blessed by some gorgeous art created by FinoliaTav, one of my regular readers, as well as some more great reviews: thank you so much to all for sharing their views on the last few chapters._


	23. New Clothes for the Champion

**TWENTY-THREE**  
 **NEW CLOTHES FOR THE CHAMPION**

* * *

 _Princess Zelda_

* * *

It is not even dawn. I have barely slept. My mood is not aided by either Paya or tea, no matter how sweet they both are.

I put on my jacket, and then head down to Claree's with Dorian, who is still at the front of Impa's gate. As we pass, I see Link knelt in silent prayer on the boardwalk of the Goddess' shrine.

I will not interrupt him now, but I will speak with him before he goes.

Claree is surprised to see me so early, no doubt. As Dorian waits patiently outside, I ask her how progress is coming. She disappears behind the back of her counter, through the small door, and I hear several bangs and a few bumps. A few minutes later, she reappears with a male mannequin, upon which is the first of the new tunics I ordered.

"This is the first, your Majesty," she says with a small bow. "I hope it is to your liking?"

I step around the mannequin, holding the tunic this way and that. The stitching is so neat, it could surely not have been done by hand. It is the light blue of the Champions tunics, as I requested, with the royal crest on the front, modelled on Link's original tunic. The crest is golden, woven in fine gold filigree, one side a mirror image of the other. Claree does not look like she has a steady hand, but she must do to produce work so close to perfection. There seems to be something pressed into the fabric, as there is a slight sheen to it.

I cannot have him wearing the same tunic he died in. Every time I look at him in it, I feel like I am witnessing the event again.

"The fabric is infused with part of the gemstones you kindly gave me," Claree explains. "It is believed that they have certain powers. For example, sapphires protect against extreme heat." She raises her arm and places it behind her head, rubbing at her neck. "I perfected the technique myself: a Claree secret. I am hoping that it will help the wearer survive bad weather."

"It is remarkably beautiful," I say, and she blushes. "Is it ready to take now?"

Claree nods. "I'm afraid it is the only one that is ready. Eh-" she falters, but I gently encourage her with a nod. "Are you sure you're pleased with it, Princess? I am happy to make any modifications, if you think-"

"I am delighted." I give her a sincere smile. She returns it, but there are dark circles under her wide eyes: she must have worked through the day and night, while I was fussing about sleep and drinking tea. "I have full confidence in your designs, Claree."

Claree almost knocks the mannequin over as she curtsies. She takes the tunic off, folds it into a neat square, and wraps it in paper as red as the talismans hanging all over the village.

I step out into the warm sun, the wrapped tunic draped across my arms. Dorian glances at it, and offers to take it, but I turn him down politely with a smile.

As we walk back to the centre of the village, I feel suddenly conflicted. _Should I give this to him yet, or wait for his return from Hateno, or later? Do I want to look like I am praising him, after he rejected me just yesterday, and seemed in such a hurry to get out of my sight?_

My mind is made up for me, as Link is at the bottom of the staircase, along with Impa. Under her wide-brimmed hat, it is hard to see her face clearly from this level. _How is it that she has shrunk so dramatically with age? Will I ever age like that?_

"Good morning, Princess," Impa says pointedly as I approach. Link turns and bows without even a proper look. "I believe your Champion is at last ready to leave."

"I have something for you," I say to Link, hoping to lure his eyes to mine. It works: he looks at me in polite puzzlement. I hold the wrapped tunic up, and place it in his outstretched arms.

"Thank you," he stammers, glancing between me and it. Has he never received a gift before? He plucks coyly at the twine bow, loosening it, and opens the wrapping carefully. Letting the paper flutter to his feet, he holds the tunic up. The gold thread and the finish of the material glints in the torchlight.

"Your new uniform," I explain, unable to find anything more eloquent. His eyes are alight as he looks over the garment, feeling the gold filigree with his thumbs just as I did.

He thanks me again as he looks it over, twisting it this way and that while the paper blows against his feet in the morning breeze. He holds it up to the nearest torch, watching the fabric glimmer.

"Claree designed the fabric to keep you warm when it's cold," I begin, unable to look anywhere other than my hands. "And the other way around, in hotter climes."

"She is a talented young lady," says Impa, her hand absent-mindedly touching the collar of her jacket. Of course, Claree must be the village's only outfitter.

"You must let me know if it is suitable," I ask him, "for future ventures."

"I'm sure it will be, Highness. It's wonderful."

Our eyes meet again, properly, for the first time since before we entered the shrine. I worry that the moment we shared has changed the course of our relationship. But where did I honestly think we were heading?

And now he is about to leave on a dangerous mission, and I cannot go with him. This was always how it was going to be, wasn't it? He would leave me sooner or later. I cannot rely on him as much as I have done recently – it isn't fair.

One day, I might have a court again, and maybe things might be a little different – but I know that day is far away. And I cannot bring it any closer with wishful thinking.

"Please, be safe," I ask him, and I wish once again that we were alone. Yes, I do want to kiss him once more, but one thought of the possible repercussions and I am glad that I can't.

Plus, I am certain that once he kissed me, the spell over him was broken – he does not see me as someone he could love. Protect? Yes. He understands his duty, and always has done. Enjoy a friendship with? Maybe, if we haven't damaged it too much. But never anything more.

"I will, your Highness."

He will never call me 'Zelda', will he?

Impa breaks the palpable tension: "Do you have everything you require, Master Link?"

Link excuses himself with a deep bow, picks up the paper from his feet and heads quickly back to the inn, racing up the stairs and through the sliding door with his new garment in his hands.

When he returns, he is wearing his white undershirt, thin grey leggings, and the tunic. I gape a little, then I try to shift and fine-tune my expression so that it looks as though I am admiring the work of Claree's talented hands instead of the man who wears her work as if it was always a part of him.

What exactly is so pleasing to my eyes, I wonder? I grow frustrated at myself – when we first met, we were both just a boy and a girl. He looked no different from any other boy I had seen around the Castle, or the town, or in the court, except perhaps for those unusually bright eyes. I know that not all men look that same (for I am not a complete fool), and I know from my books that what I am really interested in is just an example of the developments in basic anatomy: how I noted that after months of wielding the somewhat heavy sword of the Hero, he began to show a definition of the shoulders, and a straightened back, and improved musculature of the upper arms and lower legs after hefting a shield for long periods. He has always appeared youthful, but now I think he stretches the definition of the word 'boyish'.

 _What in Hylia am I thinking of?_ I'm just looking at a man, in his soldier's clothing. He adjusts the straps on the leather gauntlet of his left hand, and hoists his quiver of arrows onto his back, his shoulders shuffling. He places the leather tie of the gauntlet between his teeth and pulls.

Once he has jogged back, a faint splashing noise surprises the three of us. Sopping wet on the bank, Sidon is squatting, having just leapt gracefully from the moat that encircles Impa's home.

"Pardon me," he says brightly. I wonder how he can be so wide awake. "But I didn't want to miss the departure of our dear friend."

"Stop stalling," says Impa sharply to Link, "You must go right now. Purah will be expecting you, don't you keep her waiting!"

Link jerks away from her jabbing forefinger with a gasp. Sidon laughs good-naturedly, and I can't help but faintly smile.

Link bows neatly to the three of us, his hand busy at his side, and before I can think of any other parting words for him, he has tapped something on the surface of the tablet. Blue light surrounds and encircles him, he lifts almost half a foot into the air and the last thing I see of him are his eyes, looking straight at me.

Quickly, I squeeze mine shut, and try to picture him as clearly as I can. I see him as he was just now, jogging lightly towards us in his new tunic, then I see him concentrating atop Khalil at full gallop, and then I see him performing acrobatic feats during our first encounter with the Yiga. Momentarily, I see him die again in my arms in the rain, but my mind turns the thought over, as if it were a playing card on a table, and I see him turn into blue light, disappearing into the sky.

I shudder involuntarily as my eyes open to find myself looking at the space where he just was.

"Well, Princess," Sidon suddenly says at a volume I was not quite prepared for, "are you as excited as I am to begin our research?"

 _Ah, yes._

"I believe that the Princess has not quite had breakfast yet," mentions Impa. "I am sure she would like time to eat, and gather her notes?"

A pinkness rushes to the soft white scales of Sidon's cheeks, and the folds of his outer fins. "Of course," he stammers, shifting his body weight from one foot to the other. "My apologies. I did not mean to be pushy. May I get you anything? Anything that could help for our research?"

"I will have a look at my notes," I say patiently, feeling a little sorry for poor Sidon in more ways than just the one. Truthfully, I am glad to have a ready and willing test subject – Link was usually only interested if it involved food. And finally, I will find out more about Zora than perhaps any other Hylian researcher has likely ever done!

"Certainly, Princess Zelda," Sidon bows, his confidence a little shaken. "I will wait for you around the village, but please, take your time."

I nod politely, and turn to ascend the stairs, Impa in slow pursuit. As I touch the doorframe with my outstretched hand, I can smell something warming and delicious: and sure enough, as the panel pushes open, I see Paya kneeling before the table, placing a small plate of honeyed crepes onto the well-laden table.

"Good morning Princess," she says, with a little bow. Her loose silvery hair swings and streaks across her back. "If I may ask, did Master Link leave safely?"

"He is gone," I confirm, the words sounding more final than I imagined. "I mean, he is likely in Hateno right now." I wish I had a map. I am not a hundred percent sure of where Hateno is, other than slightly southeast of here. Maybe soon I will be able to visit Purah, and the tech lab. I wonder if she is as aged as Impa?

Impa, Paya and I sit and eat together. It is nice to be able to eat with the two women, and I am beginning to feel a little more like their equal. My mind starts to idly wander.

When I have my court, nobody shall have to bow to me, unless they have never met me before, and only then as a formality. Everyone will eat at the same table, at the same time, to save time and resources, and the library will be open to all. In fact, why couldn't I just have a larger library?

And everything will be blue, I think, as I place a warm roll onto my plate before tearing it open with my thumbs and biting into it: blue like the stones in Sidon's kingdom, like the shrines, like the Champion's tunics. Blue as Link's eyes. Yes, everything blue would be most satisfactory.

I am confused when Impa asks me if I am finished with breakfast: aren't we in the castle together? But it was my overactive imagination, and the Impa I see before me is much older, and we are in her house in Kakariko.

I thank Paya for the wonderful, filling meal, and excuse myself, heading upstairs to ready my papers. My wistful thoughts will have to lay idle for a while. For now, I have research to plan.

* * *

 _A/N: Just a quick note to say thanks to everyone again - due to personal issues there may be less updates for the next few weeks. I am also rearranging the order of certain later chapters so I will be taking a wee bit to time to shuffle and rewrite. As a quick aside, your reviews and constructive criticism has genuinely been the best thing ever, so thank you to all who take the time. I will keep you all up to date on what's happening update-wise. -Neet_


	24. Purah's Lab (Purah)

**TWENTY-FOUR**  
 **PURAH'S LAB**

* * *

 _Purah, of the Sheikah tribe_

* * *

What a marvellous day! I am in full celebration mode. I would say I have never felt quite this young, but one look at my little stubby body would prove otherwise.

I cannot help but hop from foot to foot happily as a familiar, handsome young man slides the door open. Of course, I knew he was alive and well from the phenomenal readings we had the day that the shade of Ganon suddenly disappeared from around Hyrule Castle, and the fact that all the torches around the area roared and hissed, and of course the fact that I couldn't sleep a wink the following night. But my superstitions notwithstanding!

It was certainly a surprise to hear from Impa: I don't think I had seen her use her Sheikah slate to contact me since the day we received a shocking delivery from our foot soldiers: a grubby bundle of rags, blood and bones, containing a leaky Link. I smirk to myself, proud of my little joke. I didn't crack that joke on the day; it really didn't feel like a day for levity.

And now, here he is, in the flesh, and looking very much alive. I polish my spectacles, seeing that he has a bright new tunic, and a stronger body to fill it out, too!

" _Master Link!_ " I cry, loudly enough to alert Symin from his reading. "Aren't you looking well, and youthful, and very much the hero of Hyrule?"

Link looks bashfully away, rubbing his neck with his hand.

"Now, come!" I say, beckoning him with a chubby finger. "Let me look closely at you!"

He steps forward and I take his hands, forcing him to turn left and right by pulling at his grip like a puppet. "Wonderful! And you've been taking care of that Sheikah slate?"

He produces the slate and lays it on the desk in front of me, saying nothing, but looking at me like an expectant young pup.

"Well?" I say, after a few seconds. "What exactly do you suggest I do with it?"

Link stammers, and stutters, and finally gets out that he would like to know if it can transport more than one person.

"Hmm," I toy with him, moving my spectacles up and down, scratching the top of my head and generally acting as childishly as I think I can get away with. "Well, well. What do you have planned, Master Link?"

"It's important," he finally yelps, urgently.

I push my spectacles to the top of my nose (although they don't work, I must get them resized at some point, as they are a certain part of my _frippery_ ) and pick up the slate.

"Yes, indeed. Well, surely with the right amount of ancient materials, I should be able to extend the transportation field of the slate to enable a greater capacity…"

Link's eyebrow faintly raises.

"…meaning I can probably make it so that two people can travel at once. For a small fee, of course."

He deflates as if I have sat on him.

"Well, young man!" I say loudly and haughtily, making him jump upright. "I can't make miracles happen you know, not even for the Hero! This is very ancient, sensitive technology!"

He bows his head, and I can't help but feel a little mean. "Well, why don't you leave it with me, and I'll see what I can do. Your ancient materials, please?"

I stretch out my little hand, and to my surprise, he lifts the bulging pack from around his shoulders, and drops the strap around my arm: the blooming thing is so heavy, it tugs me off the stool I am standing on, and I land on top of the pack with a thud.

Link and Symin both gasp, and Link is first to carefully help me up and place me back onto the stool. It takes all my might to look indignant, and dust myself down vigorously, all while laughter is bubbling up in my throat at the comedy of the situation and the sight of Link's mortified face. _Ha! Hahaha!_ I wonder if he's had much to laugh about recently.

"Right," I say to him with a wave of my hand. "Off you go; I don't want you here distracting me with your posing and posturing."

He looks confused, until I open the slate and whizz through several pictures until I find a perfect example: shirtless, flexing, in front of a desert landscape.

"Shown this one to the Princess, have you?"

To cover his blushes, Link bows while stepping backwards – a foolish mistake as he stumbles on a slightly raised flagstone, and his arms flap like our windmill as he narrowly avoids falling straight onto his backside. I can't help but laugh the moment he has shut the door, jumping for glee and slapping the table.

"Oh, that boy!" I say, wiping my eyes.

Symin comes over to my table and picks up the slate. "You know," he says, wiping his free hand on his apron, "you needn't be quite so mean to him."

"What, and see him growing a big head? Not a chance!" I hoot. "Now, come on, we've got a job to do for the silly boy. I know there's something about the teleport function in one of my books."

* * *

 _A/N: A short one, in which Link gets knocked down a peg or two. Like he doesn't deserve it! Thank you all for your lovely messages, I've had a really full-on week so if I haven't replied to you I do apologise - next update will be tomorrow or Sunday as the docs are all ready to go. Huge thanks for your well-wishes._


	25. The Subject of Sidon (Prince Sidon)

**TWENTY-FIVE**  
 **THE SUBJECT OF SIDON**

* * *

 _Prince Sidon_

* * *

I am not sure what I expected from being a subject in a scientific experiment, but I am probably enjoying this a little too much!

I suspect what I am actually enjoying is spending time with the Princess – with Zelda. She came down this morning, after she had eaten, with about five different notebooks and a beaming smile on her face, something I have not enjoyed seeing on her for a number of days.

"Good morning!" I cry, waving at her from the fence. The villagers always jump in shock whenever I use my voice. Maybe I should switch to a slightly quieter tone? There are no huge waterfalls here for me to shout over the top of.

"Good morning, Prince Sidon." She shuffles a few papers, struggling with all the books in her hands, so I lean forward and take the bottom of the pile. She smiles at me gratefully. "Are you ready to begin?"

"I am!" I have just been for a quick swim, although I couldn't get my heart rate up as much as I would have liked in the tiny moat. However, I did find a nice supply of fish, and enjoyed a hearty breakfast.

"Oh, pardon me," I say with sudden realisation, "I have already eaten this morning. Was that wrong of me?"

Zelda is rifling through further notes. "Hmm? Oh, no, that's alright. Don't worry."

There is a small silence as she reads her own neat writing. The village is starting to fill with a few more people, and all are astonished again to see me. I must be as strange a sight to them as they are to me, although I must say, I have tried not to gawp as much at them as they do at me!

Zelda looks around, and notices the predicament. "Would you mind coming with me? I know of somewhere nearby where it's a little more private. There's a body of water there, too."

She checks quickly with the man on gatepost duty that it is alright, and then she leads me up the village path and down to a little pond within a wooded area, in front of a shrine.

"Wow," I say, glancing around. The dawn light begins to infiltrate the trees, and the shrine casts a blue light on the nearby tree trunks. It is most tranquil, still and beautiful.

"Please," says Zelda, indicating the pool, "If you are more comfortable in the water, don't let me keep you out of it. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Thank you," I say, slipping gently into the pond, feeling my skin relax and my fins flex. "But I could never be uncomfortable in your presence, Zelda."

She blushes, and turns her head. Such a pretty colour she turns whenever I compliment her! I shall do it more often!

"So, m-may I ask," she starts off with a sweet stutter, "How often do you need to be near water, on a daily basis?"

I think, treading water lightly, as I flip over onto my back in the shallows. "Hmm. If it is a warm day, like today, probably at least once every few hours."

She begins to write in her little book with a quill pen. "Every – few – hours," she sounds out. "And for how long?"

I think again. "Twenty minutes? Long enough to swim, and get my heart pumping again."

"Heart – pumping," she writes. "Oh yes - may I take your heart rate?"

I am greatly amused. I picture her placing her shell-like ear to my chest to hear my heartbeat, and the thought stirs me a little. "And how will you do that, Princess Zelda?"

She leans forward, over the edge of the lake, and stretches her hand out. Confused, I give her my hand, but she pulls me forward so that she can touch my wrist. She applies a little pressure with her forefinger and thumb. It feels strange, and I cannot look at what she is doing, so instead I look into her eyes. She notices me looking, and her eyes flit from mine back to my wrist. After the second or third time, she smiles and blushes again. I beam at her.

"Interesting," she says, letting go of my wrist. I place it back in the water and my fin extends. She writes a good paragraph or so down, and I languish in the pool, bathed in the silence. I do hope I am being useful.

"Did you know," she says, after finishing her sentence with a flourish, "That your resting heart rate – that is, how often your heart beats when you are still – is over twice that of the average Hylian's?"

"I did not, Princess!" Although, I confess to myself, this is a little bit of a lie. I remember dear Mipha telling me something similar when I was much smaller, when she was showing me how she healed our warriors. I so loved to watch her, almost as much as she loved her ability to do it.

"Am I right to believe that the average Hylian would be our good friend Link?"

Strangely, at the mention of Link's name, her expression darkens. She glances up at the shrine behind us, and her lips become a thin line. Maybe I shan't mention Link again. Of course, she is bound to be a little worried now that he is away.

"Would you like to know about Zora cuisine, Zelda?" I offer, desperate to move the conversation along. "There are certain foods found in Zorana that we believe to have certain purposes."

"Yes please," she says. "That would be useful."

I tell her about the lotus pods which strengthen the legs, and the snails which appear after dark. As she asks for more details, such as the shape of the shells, she is sketching out detailed little pictures of the animals and plants I describe.

"Considering your immunity to shock-proof elixirs," she begins, combing her hair with her fingers, "I think that using more experimental ingredients in higher concentrations would yield a stronger and more permanent result," she explains as she doodles, "But the issue is, your body- er, your mass is- um…"

I laugh as she struggles for the polite phrase. "I know. I'm a lot bigger than Link is. I would likely need to eat much greater quantities than he does." I think of his ravenous appetite. "Which would mean I need to eat _a lot!_ "

Zelda and I enjoy a laugh together, with me splashing gently in the water. She shakes her head with mirth and writes a few more things down.

"In seriousness," she says once she is done, "I believe that concentrated elixirs, rather than dishes, would be a better application. That way, you can consume stronger doses more frequently." She winces. "I apologise in advance: they are often made from some rather unsavoury parts, and I have yet to make one that didn't taste disgusting."

I chuckle. "If it's all in the name of my safety, I don't mind."

"So," she continues, "our main issues in the Gerudo desert will be the extreme temperature, and shock arrows."

Aha. I had forgotten about shock arrows, the bane of the Zora. "Do you think the Yiga would use them?"

The Princess looks up, her expression serious. "Against you? Yes."

I emit a joyless laugh. "They would be foolish to."

"Prince Sidon," the Princess asks, bringing herself close to the water's edge. "I promise, if you answer me surely, I won't ask this again: are you sure you wish to go into the hideout?"

I sit up, the water rushing around me, and bring myself closer to the Princess. I take her hand in both of mine. She flinches a little, from the wetness, and the probable roughness of my scales against her soft, warm little hand.

"Zelda," I say softly. "I insist upon it. I must protect my people, and I have a duty to do what I can for the good of Hyrule."

She shuffles on her knees, uncomfortably. I rise out of the water to meet her gaze. Her eyes are full of concern.

"I know you are worried," I explain, "But we will have the aid of the Gerudo, who I know to be a mighty race. And don't forget, this is not my first fight – or Link's."

She seems happier, but I know she is hiding her troubles.

"Is there anything else I can do that would put your mind at ease?" I offer, clasping her hand still. She thinks for a moment.

"I'm not sure," she says. "I will need to speak to Impa. I know there must be some way we can protect you from a direct electric shock attack, and the heat of the desert."

She stands slowly, until I cannot hold her hand any more. Reluctantly I free her from my grasp.

"Would you like to come along with me?"

How can I resist that invitation? I leap out of the water with a flourish, taking care to land next to her without splashing her with stagnant pond water. She smiles, and we make our way back into the village.

 _It won't be long_ , I promise myself, _just be patient_. After the last trace of Ganon is wiped from the land, the Princess can put her mind at ease.

And then I will take the opportunity, and propose to merge our Kingdoms with our marriage!

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks for the reviews - Guest who asked about Tarrey Town, wait and see!_

 _Updates a bit scarcer this week, apologies in advance, rewrites taking place so I'll be busy-ish. Huge thanks for all your understanding and support._


	26. A Mistake in Gerudo (Link)

**TWENTY-SIX**  
 **A MISTAKE IN GERUDO**

* * *

 _Master Link of Hyrule_

* * *

I sigh into the hot breeze of the desert, as I shed the tunic I put on just moments ago.

It has been dawning upon me gradually that I do not understand the ways of any woman I have ever met. Here I am, about to dress as one, to gain entrance to a town where simply being male is a type of crime. Yet, they don't seem to mind the Gorons, and half the village including Chief Riju and her bodyguard know full well I am a male!

And then, there are the women devoid of any romantic entanglement with me, who I should be able to make sense of: Purah and Impa, who seem to exist only to give conflicting advice, or to praise me with one breath and ridicule me with the next.

Purah gave me back the tablet after I had slept one night in my own house, and told me in no uncertain terms not to use it to "take salacious pictures of myself". I had only done that once! It was too hot for clothing here in the desert, and those gents wanted proof of the great skeleton – I had just thought that flexing my muscles would be funny. After all, I wanted to prove that _I_ had been the one taking the pictures.

And then the Princess. Just as I think I will never have her favour again, she commissions a new tunic for me from Claree. She then gifts it to me in front of Impa and Prince Sidon so that I cannot possibly read her meaning, nor can I show my gratitude in any way other than in a subservient manner. Just when I believe she has marked me as special in her heart, she gives a garment to Sidon, as well. It was enough to turn my blue eyes green.

The last woman to tell me clearly what she wanted from me was Mipha. After she asked me for more of my time, I was so taken aback by the thought that she reciprocated my growing feelings for her, that I felt the only right thing to do was kiss her.

And then, everything happened at once, and took one life I had planned away from me. Even now I can barely remember our relationship, and I am too humiliated to admit it.

Now, I struggle into the women's sheer leggings and try not to laugh at myself. I fold the tunic carefully, taking one last time to admire it, before rolling it and stuffing it into the pack. My transformation into a member of the fairer sex is complete. I thank the Goddess, not for the first time, that I am mostly lacking in body hair – although I did closely shave my chest with a sharpened Lizal boomerang. I shudder involuntarily at the memory.

The guards at the southern gate barely acknowledge me, so used to this 'little Hylian vai' as the citizens all call me, even though it has been a while since I have been here. I waste no time, heading straight for the palace, but as I approach I can see no sign of Chief Riju, or even Buliara.

I slow my footsteps at the palace steps. The nearest guard notices, and calls over to me.

"Sav'otta," she says gruffly.

"Sav'otta," I reply in my softest voice, trying to limit my speech. I point to the vacant throne. "Chief Riju…?"

"The chief and Captain Buliara are out," she says, offering no further explanation. "I doubt they will be long. Why don't you spend a little time in the market square?"

"Sarqso." I turn and head off to the market. I don't think I need anything more, and I am not one for window shopping.

What to do with myself? I am stressed, my energy sapped. Maybe a little massage wouldn't be out of the question…

I head quickly to the Oasis Spa.

"Ah, it's our Hylian friend, once again! Come come, straight through with you." Romah waves me past the beaded curtain, and I try to ignore the glares from the people sat waiting. She points me to the bed. "You strip, under the towel, and we'll work on those knots, yes?"

I quickly place a hundred-piece Rupee into the dish on the counter, and I remove the veil and the top, leaving the sirwal, and hop onto the counter, trying to cover as much of my lower half as I can with the towel. Romah can be heard preparing something in the next room, probably involving my favourite massage oils. It feels so nice to lay down, and I am almost drifting off when I hear her return, bringing with her a woody, sweet scent.

"Here we are," she trills in a soft voice. "Now, how are those shoulders of yours, my sweet vai?"

"Mmmph," I say, into the soft towel that encircles my head. The clattering of the beaded curtain along with the pad of Romah's footsteps and the soft aromas are sending me off already.

"Alright, I hope you're ready to relax."

I hear her rub her hands together, then she tents them across the base of my spine, running them with a firm pressure across the top of my hips, before tracing either side of my spine. I groan loudly into the towel in my 'Link' voice, involuntarily.

"We are tired today, aren't we?"

As she chases the aches across both sides of my weary back, I can feel myself relax. Soon, I can't trace where her hands have been, and I know I must be falling asleep…

I turn my head and open one lazy eye, and I see a curtain of gold hair moving as my masseuse rubs the tender tops of my shoulders, just before my neck. My eyelids flicker at the pleasure-pain as she finds a knotted muscle and rolls it sharply between the tips of her deft digits.

"Is that nice?" says the Princess's voice.

I moan into the towel as she rubs the back of my neck, slipping her fingers up to the nape of my hair before lightly tracing my spine down as low as the towel allows her to go. She places the flat of both hands on my left side and rocks the hip back and forth with gentle pressure, her touch rising up my weary body until she is back at my shoulder, kneading it with both hands. I can smell the oil mixed with the fresh scent of her, and as I open my eye again, I see her face smiling down at me.

"Hmm?" I am confused. Why is she lavishing me with all this attention, and why is she dressed as a Gerudo? She looks beautiful with her hair half gathered up and half down, and in a casual desert outfit that exposes so much skin that I forget where I am meant to be looking.

This must be some kind of beautiful dream. Or maybe I passed out from heat while I was dressing, and I am actually flat out, half-buried in the sand.

May as well make the most of it.

I let the Princess pamper me, feeling all my stresses slip away. In this dream, there are no Yiga, there is no obligation, and she is not even a Princess. We are just two people enjoying the experience.

She reaches the sweet spot at the top of my shoulders again, and I can feel the locks of her soft hair touch me as she bends down slowly so that I hear her soft breath approaching my ear, and I feel her cheek press against my neck before her lips meet me there, and I am moaning and turning over onto my back so that I can grasp her and kiss her…

A pot smashes, and I awake with a jump to find myself on my back, almost falling off the counter. Romah is in the corner, pressing herself against the wall, her eyes wide. Her arm raises and her finger points directly at me.

"VOE!" she cries.

I look down. The towel is barely covering me, wrapped around my waist, my chest completely bare.

I gasp and leap up before I fall off. She squeals and covers her eyes.

"Voe! You are a voe!" She shrieks through her hands. "I cannot believe it!"

"Please," I stammer, "I didn't mean-"

She points with that same finger at the door. "OUT!"

"Please, forgive me-" I slide on the floor as my bare foot meets the broken pot of massage oil. I sail through the beaded curtain, hitting the side of the counter with my ribcage, before racing out of the front doors.

This is bad. This is national incident levels of bad. I don't know where else to go, so I head quickly down the nearest alleyway, completely bare save for the sirwal.

Now what, Link?

It turns out that even dreaming about the Princess leads to unfathomable trouble. Can I not even fantasise? Is that yet another luxury I cannot afford?

I also cannot afford the time to be angry. Quickly, I scramble up the nearest wall and push myself over the top, into the stream of cool water. Just what I need: a quick cooldown. I hear Romah, calling for the guards, and I feel terrible: all the fear I will now have struck into the heart of that poor woman, simply because I couldn't control myself once again.

I let the water completely soak me for a while, until it dawns on me with increasing horror that I have left my pack in the spa. I raise my head slightly: sure enough, there is a guard going towards the palace now, holding my pack and paraglider in one hand – _and the Master Sword in the other!_

I race across the rooftop reservoirs, keeping my head down as much as I can. I must beat that pack to the palace!

After a few close jumps, I know I must be on the top of the throne room: I can hear the trickling of the font, and footsteps within. I dangle my legs down and drop onto the lower ledge, finding myself directly behind the throne. I creep up, past the font, taking care not to displace the water, when I notice the guard holding my items lowering herself before the Chief and Buliara.

"Lady Riju," she says, kneeling and holding the items before Riju's throne. "A man has infiltrated our village and caused a ruckus. He has left these items behind in the Oasis Spa."

I see Riju and Buliara exchange a glance. Buliara huffs a long sigh.

"Please, leave them with Buliara," Riju says after a measured moment. "She will check them over. Thank you."

The guard bows and exits, painfully slowly. I count the seconds, wondering if I can sneak up to the back of the throne without startling both women.

My thoughts are interrupted by Riju's voice: "You'd better come out, right now."

I step out from behind the throne, aware of my bare shame, and I bow low to try and disguise it. Buliara slams the end of her sword into the ground, and I jump to my feet.

Riju stands, scowling. "Have you any idea just what an idiotic move you have made today?"

I hold out my hands, pleading. "Lady Riju-"

"We told you," Buliara roars, closing my mouth firmly. " _Warned_ you! Trusted you in fact, and this is what you do? You should count yourself lucky you weren't caught by my guards this time, they might have made an example of you, given the circumstances!"

 _The circumstances?_ "I am so very sorry," I say, tentatively adding, "What…circumstances?"

"Yiga have struck in our town," hisses Riju, suddenly looking older than her tender years. "I would have called for your aid sooner, but things have been busy." She remembers her fury: "Also, I had no idea you were already here, terrorising my people."

"An honest accident," I say, bowing once again.

"An accident you cannot afford-" Buliara begins, but Riju waves a weary hand. She is too stressed to be angry any more.

"I am sorry to hear of this," I begin. "When did they strike? Was anyone hurt?"

"No," she growls. "They were clearly looking for the Thunder Helm, which is safely hidden right now," she mutters, pacing about her throne in quick, short steps. "I cannot have it go missing again. I don't understand why they are not gone, after Calamity Ganon's demise."

"That is why I am here," I say, kneeling. "With your permission, I would like your troops' assistance in vanquishing the Yiga, once and for all."

Riju sits heavily into her throne, crossing her delicate legs and resting her chin in her hand. She does not look at me for a moment, rather she looks over my shoulder into the courtyard.

"You can't go back out there as you are," she muses, "And you can't go back out there as a _vai_. You'll be recognised, no doubt. So what exactly am I to do with you, Link?"

I think for a moment. She is right: Romah and her staff would recognise me as a girl, and I'd be in danger of arrest or worse as a man. I don't know what to suggest.

"What about the Princess?" offers Buliara.

Riju's eyes light up. "The Princess! Is she well, Link? And you saved her?" She rushes off the throne and over to me, peering at me as if she has suddenly realised who I am. "Forgive me for only asking you just now. I had briefly forgotten, in my anger."

"She is well," I assure her, "but troubled by the Yiga. We have been struck by them, also. Unsurprisingly they are targeting her."

"Then we must strike back, before their next planned attack," she says, and Buliara nods in agreement.

Riju turns to me, her earrings glinting in her hair. "How would the Princess feel about coming here? Perhaps it will distract from the turmoil you have caused, and I might be able to grant you entry, as her loyal Knight."

I shake my head. "I cannot justify bringing the Princess here until it is safe."

"Then what exactly _are_ you planning?" demands Buliara, folding her arms over the hilt of her claymore.

I explain everything: the attacks, their attempt at tracking us, and the involvement of Impa and Sidon.

"A Zora?" Buliara's eyes widened. "You're certainly not bringing him here: it's far too hot for Zora. Does he know that the hideout is in the desert?"

"The Princess is working on something," I explain, although Buliara's short remarks are starting to get on my temper. "Something to help protect us all from the Yiga attacks. She is very keen on recipes and elixirs; she always has been."

 _Why didn't I encourage her more, when I had the chance?_ Riju watches my face, so I try to lead her off with a stony silence.

"If it's shock-proof materials _he_ needs," Riju says slowly, "And his prowess in battle _we_ need, perhaps we could see fit to loan him the Thunder Helm, if you think it would fit a Zora."

"It might," I begin. "Thank you." I remember I have a task to do, and if I'd not deviated from it in the first place, I wouldn't be in trouble right now.

"Buliara," commands Riju, "Send a number of the troops out immediately to the hidden location. We'll need the Helm if we're going to stand a fighting chance." She flexes her fingers, her gold bracelets glinting. Buliara bows her head, shoulders her giant weapon, and trudges off. A minute later I hear her hoarse voice yelling.

Riju looks at me, her head on a tilt. "Now, Link," she says in a softer voice. "Tell me, what's gone wrong with you? I can't believe you'd let yourself be discovered by one of my people, and in the spa no less. Yes, Buliara thought you would falter eventually, but I can hardly believe you did."

Hot shame creeps up my spine and rushes to my face. "Er-"

"Are you being too hard on yourself, perhaps? Pushing yourself too hard? You did just defeat the Great Calamity, I understand. Congratulations are in order. I must admit, I was worried about you."

She stands down from her throne and starts to walk around me. I daren't follow her with my eyes.

"Well, you look remarkably well on it, despite all of those scars."

I wince and try to cover myself with my arms. Riju stops by my left shoulder.

"I apologise," she says, seeing how I tense up. "I didn't mean anything by it. Your scars are a mark of your relentless courage, and the sign of a good warrior."

I nod my thanks, unable to speak. I am so ashamed of myself. She is right about courage, but I have been using my courage in all the wrong directions of late: making a move on the Princess, allowing myself to fantasise about her, as if she were a common object that I desire to own. I close my eyes and stand in place.

"I think you've beaten yourself almost as hard as your enemies have, Link," says Riju, gently. "Could I be right?"

Again, I don't answer, keeping my eyes closed. I concentrate instead on my breathing.

"I appreciate all that you have done and are doing to keep everyone safe from the Yiga once more," she continues, placing a hand on my shoulder. "But I must insist that you think carefully on your actions in the hideout. I would hate to see you act rashly, and suffer the consequences. I know you are not my warrior, and it is not really my place to comment, but I say this as your friend. Will you consider your actions carefully?"

"I promise I will be more thoughtful," I say to her. "And thank you greatly for your help."

"No need to thank me just yet," she says, turning back to her throne and taking a seat. "I haven't assigned you any troops, and I won't until you discuss your strategy with me tomorrow morning. That was _not_ a request, by the way. And I must insist my Captain goes with you. You and the Zora Prince must work with her and my soldiers as a unit. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I reply, drawing myself up straight. I wonder if Sidon is working out a strategy, or if he is enjoying his time with the Princess too much to plan. The very thought of it stings me.

"You'll have to lay low for the rest of your time here," Riju says, inspecting her fingernails and adjusting the rings on her slender fingers. "I think I have a weaponry store room where you can sleep, if you'd like." She blushes lightly, and then clears her throat. "I'll send someone out for a fresh set of clothing – _female clothing_ – and you can sneak away from of here in the morning."

I drop to one knee. She scowls.

"And enough with the bowing and scraping! Act like a Champion, not a skivvy!"

She makes me laugh, despite myself and the situation. At a loss of where to go, and slightly craving a piece or two or two of Hydromelon, I excuse myself with a plite nod and step behind the throne and the font, and drop down the wall until my feet hit the soft sand.

I will gratefully sleep in the store room tonight, and count myself lucky.

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks again to everyone for all the support - I am still incredibly busy but I promise I won't let my readers down. Possibly another update - maybe two this week - but only one is a definite. Huge thanks for the understanding._


	27. A Week Passes

**TWENTY-SEVEN**  
 **A WEEK PASSES**

* * *

 _Princess Zelda_

* * *

For the umpteenth time this past week, I am upstairs at the foot of Paya's bed, reading through my notes as if someone's life depended on it.

 _Sidon's life_ might _depend on it_ , I helpfully remind myself, and after the last half-dozen failed experiments I am starting to get a little furious with the know-it-all in my head. Once again, every time I have tried something new, it has failed disastrously.

Sidon was kind enough and trusting enough to let me gently introduce an electric current, to try and test his resistance. We stood him on dry ground barefoot, had him remove anything metallic to stop him from accidentally branding himself, and placed a thick metal chain charged with electricity near to him, turning the current up gradually. He winced the first time the current was turned on, but after that he was unflinchingly brave.

He has been rewarded with nasty shocks, including on one occasion a shock so horrible and sharp that it caused a large snap and a shower of sparks, a small split in the skin of his outer thigh, and Paya to burst immediately into tears.

I understand he has a special kind of sweat gland which keeps his skin constantly moistened, as long as he is fed well and able to bathe at least thrice a day. This causes the following dilemma: firstly, I believe if I can somehow kick that gland into overdrive, it would help keep him safe from the scorching desert, but it also explains why the electro elixirs, which reduce a sharp shock to an irritating spasm in Hylians, would not work with his physiognomy. Oil on the surface of the skin would create a barrier.

I must break this down one at a time. I am sure there is more than one way to protect someone from electric shocks, other than with something ingestible. I will have to find a more tangible way of protecting him. Yet at the same time, surely there is something he could eat to keep that gland overproducing water and oil, and protecting him from the desert's extreme heat.

But there is nothing that exists in my mind – I angrily write at the bottom of my notes, in block capitals: **HYLIANS DO NOT HAVE THAT SWEAT GLAND**.

I slap the notes onto my lap with a sigh. I pause, taking a deep breath, and although I am cross with myself for failing to discover anything useful, and have been hiding from Sidon for the last few hours out of shame, there is a part of me that is really enjoying playing at being a scholar.

I smirk. Those words cannot hurt me any more if I use them myself.

I hear footsteps too soft to be Sidon's, and too quick to be Impa's, and sure enough Paya's head appears around the top of the stairs.

"Oh," she bows awkwardly, "forgive me, your Highness. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"That's alright, Paya," I say. I have been a major imposition over the last week; in sharing her sleeping area with me, she has lost her privacy. "Please, come in. This is your room, after all. I really don't want you to feel you have to leave just because I am here."

"Thank you, your Highness." She shuffles over to the bedside table and pulls out the same little leather book I have seen her bent over every night, before Impa shouts at her to snuff her candle. It must be a diary. I am not slightly interested in reading her personal thoughts, being a diarist and researcher myself, but when I see the lines on her face as she writes, I do wonder what she is thinking.

She sees me observing, and suddenly flicks to the last pages, tearing them out.

"Did you want some paper, Highness?" She holds the bleached parchment out to me with an unsteady hand.

I am embarrassed at being caught looking, so I nod and gratefully take her offering. "Thank you very much. Do you have enough for yourself?"

She blushes as she returns to her writing. "Oh, that's alright. I'd rather the paper went towards something important like your studies, rather than my childish ramblings."

"I'm sure they're not childish," I begin, but I do not want her to feel as though I am curious.

We both write in silence, with her churning out two dozen words to every one of mine. There is a little arrow-shaped notch in between her brows, just like the one Link gets when he is concentrating.

Link – I wonder where you are right now. Safe in the desert town, like I hope you are, and not doing anything reckless, like I pray you aren't. Every so often, a ball of my confused feelings rises to the surface, only to sink again under the mire of my day-to-day struggles. I know I cannot ignore it, but there seems little point in dealing with feelings for someone who is not here to help me resolve them.

Suddenly, Paya drops her diary and pencil into her lap, covers her face with her slim little hands, and begins to sob.

I am taken aback. My first instinct is to go to her, and surround her with a comforting gesture, but I have not reached out to embrace someone for so long that I am unsure whether she would appreciate it or not. I see her eye through a gap in her fingers, small and lonely and crying, and I can't help but pull her into a clumsy embrace.

"Paya," I say, moved. "What is wrong?"

"I'm sorry," she weeps gently into the crook of my arm. I let her choke out a few little sobs, until the worst of her hysterics seem to have gone as quickly as they came on.

"Is everything quite alright? One moment you were writing, and then-"

"It's-" she begins, looking everywhere but me. "Oh, it's nothing, it's-"

"It can't be nothing if it's upset you like this." I feel ashamed: knowing so little about her, I cannot begin to guess what might be troubling her.

"It's M-Master Link, I-" her face screws up, but she breathes in deeply through her nose and manages to pull herself back from another big sob. "I know I cannot do anything, but I hate not knowing where he is, and worrying that he's in danger."

"Link isn't in danger," I say in a convincing enough tone. "He will be safe with the Gerudo now."

"What are the Gerudo like? Have you ever met them?" she asks, out of curiosity I feel, rather than doubting my answer. I think again of Urbosa, and how her temper flared wildly, but how she was so kind to Link and I.

"I have," I assure her. "One of my best friends was Gerudo, and she was one of the most caring people I have ever known." I swallow the lump in my throat. "If all Gerudo are just a little like her, Link will be absolutely fine."

I can't help but smile as I picture a town full of Urbosas, laughing throatily, while Link dutifully follows their orders with that blank expression of his. Is there a touch of sadism in my glee? Paya notices my smile, and draws some comfort from it.

"I know that it is his job to put himself into dangerous situations," Paya continues thoughtfully, "But I can't help but…" She bites her bottom lip. It seems to be a nervous habit of hers: I know I have seen Impa do it as a young woman. "Oh, I thought I was over it, Grandmother said I would be over it soon enough…"

 _Over it soon enough?_ And suddenly, I am watching the pieces fall into place. _She's in love with him!_ Even though she stares unblinkingly at Sidon, and cannot talk to him or meet his eye, it's not him she is bewitched by. She loves Link.

As she cries softly into my shoulder with her eyes closed, a page of her diary turns over in her lap. My eyes are helplessly drawn to it, and I can't help but see in her neat, looped handwriting:

"… _may be a love that is never shared or returned, just having it for myself is gift enough. Seeing him brings me great joy…"_

I feel something strange, as if every breath I take since seeing those words is suddenly icy cold. I know that this is what I have been feeling, too: every time I step out of the house these past few mornings and look across the village, I am secretly searching for that glimpse of light blue, bent down in front of the shrine, or leaning on a fence chatting to a villager.

Poor Paya. Link, I am sure, has no idea of her feelings. No doubt he has never been anything but kind to her, which would only fuel her raging emotions.

But then… I can see the pieces coming together, and this time they are hers and his. Wouldn't they be a perfect match? Suddenly I can see their shared, not-too-distant future: he, a General or some other high rank in the Hyrulean army, _my_ army, marching down the village path with his hand in hers, their young children tugging at his sleeves. Yes, this would be perfect. Impa would have a family again, and Paya could know what it was to share in love.

I am crying all of a sudden. I press my face into the top of Paya's head, hoping she won't notice the tears running into her parting. With my little flight of fancy, I have surely done what every good ruler intends, and created the perfect family as reward for my most faithful Knight's service.

But I cannot silence the know-it-all voice, back again from banishment: _I wish it could be me_.


	28. Turning Up The Heat

**TWENTY-EIGHT**  
 **TURNING UP THE HEAT**

* * *

 _Princess Zelda_

* * *

During the hotter point of the afternoon, the village is almost empty, which makes today something quite special to observe.

Prince Sidon stands in the middle of the square opposite Impa's stairway, his hands on both hips, sweating so profusely as if to challenge the midday sun, wearing a broad smile.

"How are you feeling, Prince Sidon?" I ask, observing from a safe distance nearer to the Goddess' idol. Dorian, Cado, and three other village men we have persuaded to set down their afternoon chores are stood encircling him, lit torches in their hands.

"Mighty good, Princess!" he cries, with a jaunty wave at me. The door of a nearby shop slides open and a woman pokes her head out, joining the many onlookers. "A little strange, but ready for the next step!"

"Ready, torches!" I call to the men, and each one of them advances forward until they are within a foot of Sidon. He does not move, merely smiling beautifully at them all. We wait a few moments, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Feels rather warm!" Sidon calls.

"Are you uncomfortable?" I ask, as the men all glance at me, awaiting their next command.

"Not at all! This atmosphere is simply tropical!"

I bless Sidon for his patience and good humour. I can see the sweat and oil glowing on his scales, and he wipes a hand across his brow to prevent the viscous fluid from running in his eyes.

"Hold your torches please, gentlemen," I encourage the men, some of whom look at me a little incredulously. Dorian is the only one who seems to be able to stay still.

After a painfully long quarter of an hour, I call the men off. They each douse their torches in the buckets placed nearby, and four of the men run off to the side to fetch the next stage of the experiment. Sidon gives me a thumbs-up, and I nearly whoop with joy, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

There is grunting, and the men arrive, bearing a gigantic wooden tub.

"There will be fine, thank you, Gentlemen!" Sidon waits for them to place it down, seeming as eager for the next stage of the experiment as I am. I see Koko and Cottla, both pairs of their little feet on the fence bar up by Cado's home, even though I am sure their father ordered them to stay indoors. Their little faces are gleeful as Prince Sidon hops into tub, bracing himself for the icy water.

"It's brisk!" He calls through slightly chattering teeth.

"Can you withstand it?" I ask, coming closer. The men kindly clear the way.

"Oh, most definitely," says Sidon, his breath coming in more controlled bursts. "I am aware of the cold, but it seems to not be affecting me as badly."

I hold up his hand and feel for any changes: the skin feels as firm as always, his scales do not appear to be flaking or damaged, and there is no sign of the muscular spasms that accompany exposure to freezing temperatures.

"it is important to test dire extremes," I explain to Paya, who despite accepting the job of assistant with relish, is trying to cover her eyes – she cannot get used to the sight of the Prince in a bathtub. "He won't be exposed to such extreme temperatures, but if he can withstand these for a short period, he can withstand longer periods at lesser extremes."

Paya nods, casting a quick glance at Sidon. He is moving his slender legs up and down, fins extended: the ice water is slopping around in the tub.

"Stop that!" I scold, laughing as I do.

"I'm sorry, Princess," Sidon chuckles.

"You're not supposed to be having fun," I shake my head, my heavy plait sliding between my shoulder blades. Claree's clothing is incredibly well suited: while the Zora clothing was opulent, this shorter dress shirt and leggings she has fitted perfectly to me are immensely comfortable as well as practical. Water splashes onto the leggings and I gasp, and jump back, more worried about damaging the fabric than the freezing sting.

"Oh, forgive me!" Sidon cries, looking down. "I have accidentally moistened you!"

I laugh, at a slightly inappropriate volume. Impa narrows her eyes from her vantage halfway up the staircase.

After ten minutes, I take Sidon's hand again: the fingers flex satisfyingly, and when I jab into the nerve at the side of his wrist bone, his whole hand jerks upward.

"Fascinating!" he cries. "Do it again!"

I repeat the nerve stimulation, and test his scales by stroking my fingers across the inside of his wrist, where they should be the most delicate. I trace along where the little diamonds turn from pearly white to blood red. When I glance up at his face, his eyes are closed and his eyelids fluttering.

"Er," I stammer, dropping his hand back into the tub, "you- you seem to be at full motor functionality, Prince Sidon."

He opens his eyes, and raises his brow.

"Your body works fine," clarifies Paya.

"Well of course it does!" cries Sidon, leaping to his feet in the tub and almost showering myself, Cado, Dorian and Paya in its contents. "Princess, your experiment was a complete, resounding success!"

I hesitate: there is still more data to collect, such as his blood pressure and heart rate, but he is so jubilant that before I know it a round of applause has broken out among the whole village.

I turn around. Every pair of eyes is on me, and there are expressions that run the range from surprise to sincerely impressed. I cannot help but break into a smile so big, muscles stretch in my cheeks that feel like they haven't moved in weeks.

Sidon takes my hands as he steps out of the tub, dripping with moisture. "Princess, you truly are a marvel." Dorian rushes over to his children, who whoop and cheer: he seems to have forgotten their broken promise to stay indoors, as he is smiling as he lifts Cottla onto his shoulder.

I blush profusely. "Do you feel well, Prince Sidon? No ill effects?"

"Not at all!" he kneels to my level, and I gently lift the fins about his crown to check his eyes, ears and skin clearly. As always, he doesn't mind being pawed at.

A breeze rattles the trees and grass nearby. Sidon takes both of my hands in his and holds them tight: I can feel how cold his skin is. He is such a good soul for adhering to my many demands.

"I know I am always safe in these hands of yours," he says, "Zelda."

The winds pick up as we look at each other, and my smile mirrors his. Suddenly, there is a blinding clear blue light streaking through the sky, piercing the hill above the village, and a soft yet eerie sound. Sidon stands and pushes me behind him, and Dorian raises his bow, with his children under his feet…

"Lower your weapons!" cries Impa, just as the light dissipates, and suddenly Link appears over the hill.

"Link!" I cry, as he leaps from the hill, producing his paraglider, which sets him sailing neatly down to the square. He folds it down once he is just a foot from the ground, landing securely on his hand and feet, and he strolls briskly over to us.

I run towards him, but I am stopped as if by an invisible force just in front of him. He drops to his knee, looking up as he rises, searching me with those clear blue eyes.

"LINK, MY GOOD FRIEND!"

Sidon strides past me, reaches down and to everyone's surprise, he clasps Link in a mighty hug. No-one is more shocked than Link, who reacts to the Prince's freezing cold damp skin with a loud gasp, and he writhes like a trout in a fisherman's grasp.

"Oh!" Sidon lets go of him so quickly he almost falls to the ground. "Forgive me, I forgot about the ice tub! I was just pleased to see you return!"

He paws at Link's tunic, which now bears a large streak down the front where it is soaked through, making it worse with his sweaty, damp hand prints.

 _Why are you wet?_ Link's expression seems to read, and his eyes bounce from me to the crowd, to the tub of ice.

"Look!" Sidon gestures, keen to move on from his unfortunate dampening of Link, "the Princess is a modern scientific marvel! Er, that is, her experiment is."

Sidon enthusiastically explains the finer points of our endeavour today, and although Link is nodding politely, his eyes haven't left mine. He has no expression; he hasn't even smiled, and he doesn't until the end of Sidon's speech, out of politeness.

"Well?" I ask, after Sidon has finished. "How are y- how have things progressed?"

He reports success – nothing more, just the one word. I glare, urging him to say more, but he meets my stare with a blank one of his own.

Impa applauds slowly. "A fruitful day for all," she says. "Master Link, you look exhausted. Come now, rest for a while."

Link nods, and follows her upstairs. I wait as patiently as I can, while the men congratulate each other and start to tidy the experiment away. Link slides the door for Impa, steps aside for her, and then enters with nary a backwards glance.

I frown deeply, and before I have formulated a plan, my legs are marching me up the stairs. Link is bowing gratefully to a smiling Impa as I throw the door open. They freeze, and both look at me in surprise.

"Princess," begins Impa, "It might be best if you were to finish with your experiment, and leave your Champion to rest from his travels."

"Not until I have received a full progress report," I respond, my anger directed not at Impa but at him. "Something a little more detailed than just 'success'."

Impa frowns. "With respect, Princess, what further clarification do you need upon success? Come, Link, upstairs with you."

She reaches up and takes him by the crook of the arm, but he dutifully will not be turned from me.

"Well?" I retort, stalling for time. _What has possessed me? Why can't I just leave him alone?_ "The Gerudo will ally with us? You have a battle plan?"

"Yes, your Highness." Link bows his head. "Chief Riju of the Gerudo has assigned most of her troops to the cause." He takes a few steps towards me and I can smell the desert on him: the warmth of the sands seems to emanate from his body. His skin is an even shade darker, particularly on the tops of his shoulders, where his freckles give off the appearance of being kissed by the sun.

He produces a map, rolled and tucked inside his belt, and holds it out for me. It is a detailed plan of the Yiga hideout, and a map of the surrounding areas.

"One group will stand guard on the cliff top. Led by his Highness Prince Sidon, these will be our best archers, so that they might pick off the Yiga which are driven out of the hideout."

"The first wave comes from the cavernous entrance to the hideout," he says, circling an indistinct part of the map with his finger. "This will be led by Captain Buliara of the Gerudo. They will pick the Yiga off as they flee the distraction: a large explosion and a fire in the treasury here, will smoke the clan out of the front entrance."

"Finally," he concludes with a small sigh, "the last stand will be at the impasse, wherein all troops retreat and cause an avalanche with the use of bomb arrows to collapse the cave system."

"And this will be led by you?"

"No, your Majesty."

"Then where will you be?"

"I will be setting up the diversion."

 _The diversion? But the diversion is_...

"You will cause the explosion inside?" I grab the map, nearly tearing it out of his grasp. He clings to a corner. The room they are planning to start the fire in looks to be a dead end.

"How will you escape?"

He says nothing. His face is set.

" _How_ will you escape?" I say again; sharper, louder, clearer.

"I will attempt to escape internally," he says solemnly. "But there is no guarantee."

"Then you are not to do it." I let go of the map. "I forbid it."

Link's eyes dart nervously over to Impa. She knew about this. She must have known. They have planned it together - they have planned his death!

"How _dare_ you," I seethe, expecting to see flames pouring from my lips. "How dare you plan this without my consent?! You-" I turn on Impa, finger drawn, "as my closest friend, you ought to know better than this."

"It is the best way-" she begins, folding her hands. I cut her short and turn on Link.

"And _you_ -" I begin, seeing my words cut into him as if I am carving him up with a knife, "-you have not earned the right to appoint yourself to a suicide mission."

"Link knows the hideout," Impa continues, a note of pleading in her voice. "He is the only one to have been there and out again, and therefore the only one that could ever have a chance of making it out safely."

"He could suffocate!" I cry, jabbing at the map. "He could suffocate; or something could go wrong, or-"

"With respect," he says quietly, "as long as I set explosives in that room, and drive out the Yiga, and the rest of the plan is executed, nothing has gone wrong, Princess."

"Do you expect to die, then?"

I wring my hands. He takes a calm step towards me, rolling the map up and handing it back to Impa.

"Princess," he says softly, "in everything I have done since I became a Knight, there has always been the chance I might not live."

I don't want him to reason with me. Where is his fear? Where is his reason to live?

"But Ganon is defeated," I gasp.

"Not while the Yiga remain active," Link reasons. "Not while people cower in fear, under his name. That is the cause we are fighting for, Princess. You know this."

He reaches out, almost taking my hand, but he stops himself. His arm drops limply to his side.

"Will you let your Champion rest now?" Impa asks me, taking Link's arm again, trying to turn him away. He turns his body, but his head and his eyes remain with me.

"I am sorry if I disappoint you," he whispers. "Please try to understand."

I turn sharply and throw the door aside so viciously that I hear wood splinter. My feet carry me down the stairs at such a speed that I am surprised I don't fall, and I am so lost in rage that I see nothing but a few feet in front of me. I have raced through the village, ignoring Sidon's friendly calls, and it is not until I notice the growing number of trees do I realize I'm not a hundred percent sure where I am.

I know the village is behind me, so somebody could be following. I start to run, zigzagging this way and that every six or so strides. I glance back, my thoughts turning to paranoia, and as I lose sight of where I am going, I lose my footing and stumble to the forest floor.

I land with my face across my arm, shielding my head from a nasty bump. Angrily, I raise myself, and as I glance around at the trees and the light dancing among the boughs, I lose all coherent thought.

I put my face in my hands and cry deeply, sobbing like an angry child.

He is right. I know he is right, even though I want everything he says to be wrong, and I want there to be another way. If he doesn't die tomorrow, he will die someday in battle: he leads a soldier's life, and a soldier cannot guarantee a safe return home.

My head hurts so, that I lay myself down on the cool grass. I am sure that Impa and I were wrong, and he cannot love me at all beyond anything than friendship, for he would swear to rethink his plans if he thought I wanted him to.

I know I am being selfish, but I cannot see a clear way out - is this what it means, to be blinded by love? I can picture his death in the desert all too clearly, his life snuffed out in seconds by a cruel explosion, or his last breath taken in some strange room hundreds of miles away, while I am supposed to sit patiently drinking tea and awaiting the news that the raid was a success, and the man I love is certainly dead along with our enemies.

I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling a sharp light pricking my eyelids, and when I open them briefly, I am shocked to see a tiny silhouette of a woman, comprised almost entirely of light.

I sit up with a start, and blink - the little woman does not move.

"Are you a fairy?" I blurt out - not the most ridiculous outburst I have made today.

The little spirit flies upwards in a circle and back in the other direction, and I am compelled to follow her - first frantically on my hands and knees, and then I struggle to my feet, watching her weave in and out of the branches, her wings moving faster than the eye can trace.

The air turns sweet like a bed of flowers, and I can see a warm light just behind these trees.

I stumble out of the woods, and I am stood before a giant water orchid, with a glowing pool in its midst. Is this the guardian spirit, which the villagers have spoken of?

There is a loud splash, and two sets of painted fingers poke out of the water and over the sides of the pool, before one of the most gigantic and beautiful women I have ever seen breaks the surface of the water with a whoop and a gasp.

"Oh!" she cries, in an echoing voice, "What have we here? A young lady this time?"

"Who _are_ you?" I ask, taken in by her shimmering bodice, her hair which is somehow coiffured and bone dry, and her red lips.

"I am the Great Fairy, Cotera!" She touches her fringe, brushing it out of her huge eyes. "And you are the Princess that carries the blood of the Goddess."

At my surprised expression, she emits a tinkling laugh. "Oh, of course I know! Welcome, Princess Zelda."

I walk up the outstretched petal and stand on the pedestal, my feet no longer under my control.

"And what has upset you, your Grace?" Cotera brings herself so close, I can smell the fruits of the forest, as she tilts her head this way and that.

I pause. I have heard that fairies can be trouble: they are known for being meddlesome, as well as their love of any handsome and gormless young men that come by their fountains to pay tribute to them. But on the other hand, I know that Great Fairies have the powers to create fantastical items out of seemingly nothing…

"I have come to beg for a favour." I drop to my knees, bending onto the firm petal below me. Cotera angles her head, her eyes widening in sympathy.

"A favour for the Princess?" she coos, inquisitively.

"Despite our eradication of the Calamity, there is still a threat to my people," I explain, my voice breaking. "The forces of Hyrule will unite to eliminate it, and yet-" I pause to lick my dry lips. Every word I let out seems to sap my energy. "I am concerned that the man I love might be killed."

Cotera's brow lifts into a pitiful expression. I bow my head, bidding the tears pricking at my eyes not to fall: I will not cry like a child in front of the fairy.

"You wish to preserve the life of your beloved?" Cotera asks. "Well, how noble and romantic. Yes, I have observed you both since you came close to my fountain, your Grace." I feel more than a little uncomfortable at this revelation. "I cannot refuse such a noble request. Wait for me here, Princess!"

With a whoop and a splash of the fragrant water, she disappears back into the offering pool. I count my breaths, and try to calm myself, awaiting her return as the ripples in the pool grow smaller and quieter. Suddenly she bursts face first from the fountain and whips her hair back over her head.

"Aaaah!" she sighs, droplets of water running down her iridescent skin. "A gift for you, Princess Zelda!"

She produces her giant hand, fist balled up, and her fingers unfurl like petals to reveal a neatly folded set of clothes. They look to be made of some strange material I have never seen before: with a matte finish, and an uneven fold that doesn't sit flat, like cotton. Is it insulating? Fireproof?

I realise I have not thanked the fairy. I do so, taking the bundle into my arms. It is indeed a strange, stiff fabric!

"What may I give you, as payment?" I offer, realising I have very little with me. No jewellery, no crown even, only the clothes I stand in and Impa's apple sketch in my pocket. I pull it out as I empty my pocket one-handedly. She looks at it with a curious interest, and then looks back at me.

"Worry not!" she trills. "Payment has already been given by another, on your behalf."

What? Something doesn't sit right: this sounds like textbook fairy deception, but after she has provided me with a gift, I daren't test her patience. I'm not sure what fairies do when they're offended, but I can't risk upsetting the giant magical woman, kindly as she may seem to be.

I bow low in front of her, and she softly sounds her approval.

As I stumble out of the clearing, trying to make sense of the strange bundle in my hands, I notice Link sprinting towards me, a concerned expression upon his face. Everyone in the square is looking up at me. Sidon and Paya come closer as I walk down the slope with Link at my side. He looks closely at me, trying to make me look back at him, but I march on like a wind-up toy.

"I have something," I say to the assembled group, still a little dumbstruck from the whole experience, and still trying to figure out the thing in my arms. Sidon reaches out and gently takes it from me: as it unfurls in a most unnatural, almost jerky manner, I can see it is a large suit. As Sidon holds it up and it falls the length of his shoulders to his feet, I realise there is no way it would fit a Hylian.

"Is it… rubber?" Paya suddenly asks, and she reaches out to touch it. Her face brightens. "Yes – yes, I think it is!"

"Rubber?" Sidon asks me, tilting his head. I feel like shrugging, until Paya clarifies:

"Yes, rubber. It's ancient Sheikah technology – it protects against electric shocks." She draws closer to me and mutters softly, barely moving her lips: "Did you visit the Fairy, Highness?"

 _What more can I say?_ "Yes."

I am suddenly angry. The fairy said – she _just_ _said_ – that she would help save the life of the man I love! How is an electric-proof garment meant to…?

"This is wonderful!" There is squeaking and squealing from the strange material as Sidon forces himself, feet first, into the very tight suit. It seems to stretch and fit tightly around every muscle, even where it looks like it will not yield, it manages to fit snugly.

"Is it comfortable, your Highness?" asks Paya. I glance over at Link, hoping I can somehow explain myself, but the second our eyes meet, he looks away. Sidon makes the garment meet with the knot at the top of the collar, and he flexes and turns this way and that. There are even gaps in the sleeves and legs to accommodate his external fins. Behind Sidon's shoulder, just out of view, Link turns, quickly and quietly leaving the scene. I move as if to follow him, but I cannot just leave.

Sidon suddenly drops to his knees, with a squeaking sound that in any other situation would be humorous. He takes my hands again, but just behind his head I can see Link heading up the steps to Impa's.

"Thank you," he says, drawing my eyes to his face like magnets. "For whatever you did, Zelda. Wherever this came from, I will take good care of it. As good care as you have taken of me!"

"You are welcome," I say, my mouth speaking by itself with no thought behind it. "Thank you for your service."

I drop my hands and walk past him, tracking the familiar path over to Impa's. I carefully slide the door open to find Impa upon her stool, raising a cup quietly to her lips. She freezes as she sees me, and her eyes dart across to the cot in the corner.

Link is laid with his back to me on the cot, the covers neatly folded under his bare feet, and his arm under his head. He does not stir. I take one step across the threshold of the house, and Impa slowly shakes her head.

I know I have thrown my weight around enough today. Impa silently watches me, like a parent waiting to see what their misbehaving child will do next.

Everything seems to drop speed. I turn, open the door which shows no sign of a break despite my rough treatment of it earlier, walk down the steps and back down to the grass. The bathtub and Sidon have both gone. No doubt he is sweating off the after effects of the mild poison I gave him: harmless enough, since the main side effect was to kick his main oil gland into overdrive.

How ironic that I seem to have poisoned both young men in my life, one way or another. I would laugh, but I think it would come out as hysterics.

I walk back over and greet Paya, who is holding my notes, with a small fake smile. How does Link do this? How does one suppress every emotion until it feels like your innards are replaced with flattened springs? When does the tension eventually fade into nothing?

"Are you alright, your Highness?" she murmurs, in the smallest voice.

"Mm," I answer, inclining my head.

"Prince Sidon has gone to bathe," she murmurs again. "He said he hopes you don't mind."

"Of course not," I say, only half listening.

"The experiment was a success," she tells me, a little louder. "That elixir from those trout parts will certainly save him from any ill effects caused by the temperature. And that ancient armour you provided will shield his body from any electric strike."

Electric strike? But as I'd spoken to the fairy I had been thinking about fire, and how to prevent it: dousing someone in water? Some kind of powder, or gel? How could she have got it all wrong?

"You are very clever, your Highness," she says with a little bow-legged curtsy, but for all her kind words I wish she would stop talking. "You will have almost certainly have saved the Prince's life with your help."

She is partially right: I might have helped him, but the Fairy Cotera was the real help, although admittedly she can't read people for two Rupees. I thought she had been observing Link and I, up at the shrine. I have done nothing to make it seem as though I love Sidon.

Have I?

My mind races back. The long trips out of town, the way he and I laugh and joke together, my increasing dedication to protecting him on the battlefield. I stifle a gasp, coughing into my hand instead. Perhaps Cotera can read people, albeit their gestures, and not their minds. She couldn't have seen Link and I kiss, for we were inside the shrine when we did, but she has seen every day as Sidon and I came near to her flowerbed, acting for all the world like secret lovers…

How must this appear to the villagers? To Sidon himself?

To Link?

* * *

 _A/N: I'm so glad people are still enjoying this! Link and pals are gearing up for battle, so the next few chapters will be a bit longer than usual, and I'm going to have to_ **raise the rating to M** _for violence and adult situations_. _I really hope this doesn't put anyone off. Huge love to all of my readers for lighting my way through a less-than-pleasant few weeks. :)  
_


	29. Zelda's Decision

**TWENTY-NINE**  
 **ZELDA'S DECISION**

* * *

 _Princess Zelda_

* * *

I decided the moment I woke up this morning that I am going to Gerudo, with the troops.

As disgusting as it would be to behave in such a fashion, I am willing to throw my weight around if necessary. I may not be able to force Link out of his mission, but I have found my way in.

Last night, I happened to overhear part of a conversation by mistake that could be the way in. I was on the verge of falling asleep, much later than Paya as usual, when I heard Impa slide her door open and closed.

"…completely understand your feelings, but I am afraid I cannot condone your request to join the battle, Dorian. You had no right to demand that of Master Link. And you have a duty to your family."

"You are right as always, Lady Impa. My family is everything to me."

The pair of them continue, no idea they are being eavesdropped upon. I suppose Impa has never been upstairs to notice how much one can hear from here. This house is like a little concert hall, and it certainly would be fit for one, given the amount of dramatics that have occurred here recently.

So, Dorian wants to join the fight against Sheikah, but Impa will not have it. That is good: he is a widower with two tiny daughters. But she might let him come to Gerudo if he were just guarding me. Paya and Impa would watch his children while he is away, and once the battle was over, I would come back to Kakariko with him.

 _In theory_.

The entire village is tense this morning. Even the Cuccos do not holler their good mornings at dawn. Paya trembles whatever she does: her twin hair buns are startlingly uneven, and I have never seen Cado pace about so much.

Impa assembles us all, even though the party barely fits into her front room. She expects us to all dine briefly together, to ask the blessings of the Goddess, and then for Link to set off with Prince Sidon and the aid of his upgraded slate. I will wait to break my news.

Ceremonial candles are lit, and tea is stirred by Paya. Though I certainly appreciate them, I am left cold by the rituals, as they remind me of my constant physical and mental struggle to unlock my powers. Impa serves the warriors' tea first: Prince Sidon and Link, and they touch their cups together before the first sip.

Cado brings forth a little idol of the Goddess Hylia, which is placed in front of Impa and facing all of us. From my place left of Link, I bow down along with everyone present, and try to focus on Impa's words of prayer.

Instead, I am saying my own: _Goddess, keep them safe. Please be with them where I cannot. Be with Link most of all, and protect him, where I might have failed to stop him._

But I know I will not fail to protect him.

Impa has arranged a mighty fine feast, almost as extravagant as the one held at Zora's Domain, although not nearly as large. Plates pile in from the food store and are handed through the screen door by the shopkeeper, who bows deeply every time she passes in a plate. As the last plate comes in, I make sure I stand and catch the door, in order to thank the older woman personally.

The room patiently waits until I am sat to begin eating. We all dine as friends and equals, and plates are passed between all of us with no mind who is passing to whom. I am hungrier than I have been for a good week or so, and I cannot wait until my plate is full. I snack on whatever is in front of me. There is a plate of my favourite steamed meat buns, absolutely perfect, soft and round, that I am a little bit reluctant to share with anyone.

I am still finished long before anyone else. I have lost count which plateful the Prince and Link are on, but on the other end of the scale is Impa, who seems to chew each bite a hundred times.

Once the feast is over, and the Goddess idol is back in her velvet-lined box, the atmosphere turns decidedly serious.

Prince Sidon and Link roll out the map of the Yiga hideout. Watching over Link's shoulder, I try to commit it to memory. After discussing their plan once more, they begin to make a list of supplies they will need from the town. I wait for an opening to interrupt, my heart leaping into my throat every time one of them pauses, but not once am I able to get a word in.

Eventually, the two men finish their discourse, and everyone gets ready to stand, except Impa and I.

I seize my chance, rudely cutting across Impa: "I propose a small change to the plans."

Everyone pauses. Link and Sidon exchange a glance.

"I will be accompanying you to Gerudo."

Nobody dares say anything, though I can tell they all cannot wait to speak at once. Impa, as our senior, gets there first.

"I think it would be safest for you to stay here, Princess, as already discussed."

"Dorian," I ask, blithely ignoring any other face in the room, "would you kindly accompany me? I understand it is an imposition upon your plans, but I would like to meet at last with Chief Riju, and see that the strike goes as planned."

Dorian is kind enough to bow politely, his hands folded in front of his waist, without a show of surprise. "Of course, your Highness, if that is what you wish."

Nobody feels comfortable enough to argue. I feel satisfied, but also as though I have manipulated everyone. Is this how a ruler should feel?

I cannot look anyone into the eye for the rest of the evening. Once everyone has retired, either to their rooms, the Inn or the watch posts, I am able to look at Impa. She does not meet my gaze, but speaks regardless.

"Do you remember the reason for preserving the life of your remaining Champion, your Highness?"

"I do." _How could I forget?_

"In that case, I was hoping that perhaps you would understand why _your_ life has to be preserved now." She is treading the line very carefully. Not many people ought to get away with speaking to a member of the Royal family out of turn.

"I see it as a necessary risk," I say trippingly. "Dorian has happily agreed to accompany me, and I would rather be with the Gerudo that awaiting news from far away." I try aiming a smile at Impa. "I would like to greatly thank you for your hospitality. We could not have achieved everything that we have in the past weeks without your kindness, Impa."

Impa's face remains unchanged. "I won't tell you I'm not concerned," she replies, "but I know there is little I can do to change your mind. And I suppose it is more useful for you to meet with the Gerudo Chief than stay here, waiting for news."

I stand, reach down, and embrace her. My head rests in the crook of her bony shoulder, like it used to when we embraced as young women.

"Please," she urges, "do not be reckless. Hyrule needs you."

I cannot lie to her, and so I faintly nod: a brief inclination of my head, giving nothing away.

Upstairs I pack my bag: a change of clothes, my notes, a bag of cooked and dried mushrooms and a number of small bottles which may come in use for elixirs. I take the spare paper Paya gave me, folded up inside my notebook. I wonder if she is still worried for Link, and I feel even guiltier, knowing that she will now be in the situation I would find myself in, had I not insisted upon coming along. Despite thinking my plan to set them up was brilliant in theory a mere few days ago, I am now unsure if it is my place any more to decide what happens between the two of them. Time will tell, perhaps: I pray it proves me wrong about their suitability.

As I come downstairs, ready to meet with the gentlemen, I see that Impa is holding another Sheikah slate in her hands. She beckons me over, patting the cushion beside her. Impatiently I sit and watch as she brings the slate to life.

"This is a new feature," she explains, touching the rune shaped like a lens which brings up the camera. "My sister has had this feature added to Link's Sheikah slate. It means that you can speak to me, on this slate, through the camera on his. Just watch-"

She presses a rune which looks like a simplified face, and holds the camera up in front of the pair of us. The rune button pulses, and then the screen ripples like a puddle of water, and there is a flash of pink.

"What-?"

The camera angle shuffles, moves around, and a very confused Link - without his tunic or shirt - appears. The camera is pointed to his left shoulder. He is glaring at the camera with a very confused expression, and his finger flickers across the view of himself as he taps the screen.

" _Ahem_ , Master Link," announces Impa. Is that an impish glint in her eye, or am I imagining it?

Link gasps, throws his hand across his bare chest, and then drops the slate: we are treated to a view of the ceiling of the Inn and some loud rustling as Link quickly clothes himself. I can feel my cheeks warming as I noticed the freckles on his shoulders once again. He'll know next time not to open the slate without being fully clothed.

When he picks it up again, he is wearing a simple white undershirt. He apologises, the look of confusion still on his face.

"So you see," Impa says to both of us, "You can communicate with me through this. At the moment, only these two slates are linked, so you need only press the speech rune if either of you need to communicate with me."

Link and I both nod.

"Master Link, are you and his Highness almost ready?" Impa asks. "I would like you to transport with Dorian first, returning to the shrine on the hill, where we will all wait for you."

Link nods again and slings his pack onto his back with his free arm. Impa closes the screen and sets her slate on the table. I am relieved at this new technological advance: at least this way we both feel that we can check on each other.

"Are you ready to go, Princess?" Impa asks. "If so, I will walk with you down to the shrine."

"Of course," I reply. She looks a little too tired to walk all the way there on her tiny legs, but I am sure that she will not be persuaded otherwise. I pick up my pack, and slide the door open, stepping out into the cool night air.

* * *

 _A/N: Many thanks again for the kind reviews and a big shout out to my frequent readers.  
_

 _AMENDMENT! I'm so, so sorry to the people I confused - one more chapter to go until the Yiga battle, not one more of the whole story. I can't wrap up that fast haha!_


	30. Third Party in Gerudo

**THIRTY**  
 **THIRD PARTY IN GERUDO**

* * *

 _Princess Zelda_

* * *

As I watch Link and Prince Sidon fade into the night air, each holding the edge of the Sheikah slate, I wonder what the sensation must feel like. Impa tells me while we wait that it is a little bit like falling, and I suddenly worry: even as a child I was a little frightened of the high turrets of my home, concerned that a stiff breeze might send me over the edge. I outgrew the childish logic but not the slight fear of heights.

"Do not worry yourself, Princess. It will be a very short experience; over before you know it."

Before our eyes, the outline of Link reappears on the step of the Shrine. He seems completely unfussed by the experience, but I know he has done it many times.

"Are you ready, Princess?" asks Impa.

I turn, and take her hand, and the hand of Paya, who has been so quietly nibbling her lip in the darkness that I almost forgot she was present.

"Thank you both again," I say earnestly. "I won't forget your kindness."

"We'll see you soon, your Highness," says Paya softly. She has begun to find her voice around me, at last. Impa nods proudly.

"May the Goddess go with you," I say, as I turn towards the Shrine.

"Goodbye, Master Link," cries Paya, on the verge of tears. He looks up, and gives her the warmest smile. She takes a step sideways, to try and hide behind Impa, and the sight of a five-foot girl hiding behind a three-foot woman makes me faintly smile, despite my nerves.

"Place your hand here, Highness," instructs Link, leading my hand gently towards the slate. I grip the corner nervously, as a terrifying thought fills my head: what if I let go mid-journey?

"If you would – if you don't mind, can you -" Link struggles, his arm darting out and almost around me, retracting as if he thinks he might get stung if we touch. He sighs through his nose, getting to grips with himself.

"Please, hold on to me, your Highness. As tightly as you can."

Our arms around each other's waist, I grip him, and take a small step closer so our bodies are connected. I am glad the night sky will disguise my awkward, incessant blushing. I can smell him again: he smells of the outdoors, the fresh air, and some small note of fragranced oil. What _is_ that?

"Close your eyes," he whispers, just as blue light floods my vision. I gasp and almost open them as my feet lift off the ground, and I feel a strange wind whip around us. Just as I am getting used to floating, the ground reappears as if it has always been there, my feet connecting with a thud. My ankles, not ready to hold me up, almost fold over, but Link holds me safe. He makes sure I am safely on firm ground as the dry air hits me like a thick blanket around my face.

I blink, seeing the two shadowed forms of Dorian and Prince Sidon, stood waiting for us in the sand on the other side of the Shrine. I can just about make out a great wall against the skyline. I follow it down to the nearest light source: torches surrounding an entrance in the middle distance, with two large imposing figures stood guard with spears that must be the same length as my entire body.

"Are you well, Princess?" asks Dorian.

I nod, still a little dizzy. "Fine, thank you."

"Are you sure we will gain entry?" asks Sidon, looking at the figures in the distance. "Three of us are most definitely male. I have heard rumours about the Gerudo and their mistrust of men."

 _Mistrust?_ That's not quite what I had heard, but I remember how little outside of his own Kingdom Sidon must have seen.

"We have special dispensation," explains Link, "and this is why we have also come at night. Captain Buliara will meet us at the gates."

As we walk towards the town entrance, Dorian staying near to my left side, I notice the silhouette of a giant woman walking out to meet us. Her hips are almost the width of her upper torso, and that is no small measurement: from the look of her, I am sure she could heft both Link and I onto each shoulder quite easily. She has a giant, double-handed weapon strapped across her back. I don't think I could ever hope to lift it, yet she moves as though she barely notices the weight.

She is a fearsome-looking woman, with a natural expression as sharp as her weapon, and she seems concerned to see us. Or is that just how she appears? She drops into the sand in a bow the same way that Link does: one knee out, with her arm resting upon it, and her head bowed.

"Your Highnesses, and guests from Kakariko," she booms in a deep voice. "Please follow me into the town. Chief Riju awaits your safe arrival."

The night air is cooler than expected, but it is also dry, and I realise I am desperate for a drink of water. I can hear it rushing about us as we enter the city, and the two gatepost guards bow to us, with a second and perhaps a third glance at Sidon. I wonder if he is thirsty as I am. The air is not hot enough at this time in the evening to warrant the use of one of our emergency elixirs, but I see that he is already wearing his rubber armour. I worry it will make him too warm.

The town is beautiful: all the stone that I can make out clearly is a brilliant white, and I can see evidence of unattended market stalls lining either side of the plaza. This was the right time to come: nobody is out except for guards around every single door and vantage point, and they have clearly been made aware of our arrival, not that it stops them scrutinising us. Any that we pass by or meet the eyes of bow to us.

We are taken to the largest, tallest building through a small courtyard, and up a staircase thankfully not as high as the one leading to Impa's home.

The throne room, lit much brighter than the rest of town by mighty gold torches, is as I might have imagined: white stone and marble everywhere, the warm smell of burning oils, a low ceiling and a large throne upon which reclines the Chief of the Gerudo.

I did not know what to expect. I suppose I had pictured someone like Urbosa, an assumption which had been reinforced by the sight of Captain Buliara, not the young girl who must have been barely a third of Urbosa's age and almost half her size. I chastised myself: didn't it wind me up something terrible when subjects attempted to patronise me? I must show her respect.

I am the first to bow, followed by Link, Dorian and Sidon. Riju almost leaps from her throne and comes down the red carpet towards us.

"Princess Zelda," she says, clearly enjoying the sound of my name, toying with each syllable. She bows to me as I rise. "A pleasure to meet you, at last. I was worried Link would never let the two of us meet."

It is a little jarring, I must admit, to hear her talk so familiarly about Link. He does not seem to mind. I forget, perhaps they are closer than I might have imagined: who can say how much time he has spent here?

"And Prince Sidon," she says, stepping gracefully sideways with a swing of her hips, and bowing to him. "Forgive me, but you are much, much taller than I had heard!"

Sidon grants her a warm laugh. "I get that a lot, Lady Riju. Thank you for your kind hospitality."

"Well," she says, with a sudden grim look. "I am sorry it cannot be all for pleasure. Do you have the plans? What have we discussed?"

She suddenly eyes Dorian, who she looks warily up and down. I gesture to him to step into the light. "This is my bodyguard, Dorian," I explain, and Riju's expression softens.

"Forgive my abruptness," she explains. "I have never met with a Sheikah before."

"Lady Riju," acknowledges Dorian, then he lapses back into respectful silence.

"We have a day here to prepare," begins Riju, "and then once you and your troops are ready, Prince Sidon, you are to set off at dusk."

Sidon will be in command of Gerudo's best archers, who will lead him the long way around towards the rear of the lair, through an area notorious for sandstorms which will help cover their tracks. Link will set off alone to infiltrate the lair, followed by the larger portion of the warriors and Captain Buliara. My heartbeats quicken.

"Gentlemen, the Captain will show you to your sleeping quarters," says Riju, turning back to her throne and draping herself onto it daintily. "If you would please remember and respect my town's rulings, and simply send for anything you need tomorrow rather than strolling out into the open."

She raises her dainty eyebrows at Link, whose cheeks colour gently under the lamplight: what was that all about? The gentlemen turn and bow to me, and follow the Captain down the stairs.

Riju smiles at me with painted lips. "Princess Zelda," she says warmly. "I feel like we will have a lot to discuss."

She stands from her throne and beckons me over to the rear of the throne room, up another set of stone steps and to a small balcony, overlooking the whole of the desert. Little sand-tides roll like sheets being turned down across a golden bed. There are two chairs on the balcony with a lit torch between them. I take the furthest seat away and we both sit ourselves down.

It is heaven to sit on something with a back. I can feel much less pressure upon my hips and lower back, and I could almost sink into the cushions.

"Such a beautiful view," I compliment Riju.

"Indeed," she says. "I often come here to watch the sun setting, undisturbed."

It must be nice to be undisturbed. Once I finally have a castle, maybe I will have a room with a great window, facing the setting sun.

"How are you, Princess?" she asks, watching me as my breathing slows to deep, gentle, tired sighs. "Are you well in yourself? What has your stay at Kakariko been like?"

I begin to explain our endeavours at the village, watching Riju's face. She has a kind yet serious expression, as though she has been heavily burdened. I suppose the task of ruling over a people most of whom are your elders must weigh upon her. Once I have told her as much as I feel comfortable sharing, she nods politely and turns her head to look out over the still desert.

"I am sure you will be as grateful as I am once the Yiga are wiped from the face of the Earth," she says, a sharpness in her voice. I cannot help but be reminded of Urbosa and her somewhat martial way with words.

"I will be pleased once the battle is over," I admit.

"Are you concerned, Princess?" she asks me, turning to me with her arm folded over the arm of her chair. "I can assure you that my warriors are fierce, and fearless: they will not let us down."

I shake my head. "I apologise," I say, "I do not doubt your women and our warriors. I mean that I have been troubled by the Yiga, their closeness to your citadel, and their threat upon all of our people."

"My first instinct is to protect my city," Riju says, brow furrowed. "When Link asked me for aid, there was no way I could turn him down." She licks her bottom lip, the arid desert air taking its toll. "Of course, after all that he has done for us, I could not ever turn him down, no matter what he asked."

There is that peculiar dull ache again. I should not be angry that my Champion has come to the aid of others: I should be proud! But it is something about the way she speaks about Link…

"Did he tell you, Princess?" Riju continues. "There is a vai here – _was_ avai – whose husband was dying of an illness curable only by a substance found in the gut of the most fearsome creature that dwells in the deserts." She points to a distant dot out on the horizon. "It is the size of a building, and has a mighty tail that can beat the life out of you before you'd know it. Link went and slayed the beast, and brought its offal back to her. I've known that beast to take down twenty foes at once. Its innards sell for hundreds of Rupees, they are so rare."

"That vai would be a widow by now," she concludes, "were it not for Link. Now, she has her husband back, and a darling little veve." A smile illuminates her face. "She named her daughter 'Link'. Unusual name for a Gerudo, but I think it is nice."

I had no idea he had done something so noble. I wonder why Link never shares these stories with me. Perhaps he is worried I might think him a boor and a brag, or maybe he doesn't want to upset me with recounts of his brushes with death.

"His part in the plan of attack upsets you, doesn't it, Princess."

I am taken aback. Once again, I wonder if my head is made of glass.

"I apologise if I might be stepping out of line, having just met you," she continues slowly, "but I can tell you are concerned."

I take a deep breath, wondering if I should outright confirm or deny my feelings, but she reaches across to touch my hand. I almost jump and withdraw, but her touch is kind.

"You must not worry," she softly says. "If anyone knows what they are doing tomorrow, it is Link. He has a way of coming out of things remarkably unscathed."

I breathe in again, in danger of inhaling half of the desert at this rate. There is no point either confirming or denying, for she has seen through me. "I am sure you are right, Lady Riju."

"Riju," she insists, "Please. I tire of formality."

I smile, nodding. "I understand completely! Please, in turn, call me Zelda."

She laughs, warm as the climate. "Please, would you accept this gift? You will certainly be thanking me for it tomorrow, once the sun rises."

She reaches beside her chair and passes me a bundle of incredibly soft, white cloth. It appears to be a Gerudo outfit, not unlike hers, with a long skirt that would wrap about my waist, a head wrap, and a top that would cut off at the bottom of my ribcage. It is unlike anything I have ever worn! I don't want to say I would feel immodest in it, as I am sure with the hot desert sun beating down I would not want to wear anything more, but I am already feeling self-conscious with the very thought of wearing it.

"I believe it will fit, but I did commission it without having met you," she admits. "I had to ask Link to help me with your measurements. It took hours to get a straight answer out of him without a stammer."

Blood rushes up to my face and neck at the thought of Link carefully describing the shape and size of my body, especially since it was not long before then that he would have been holding me in his arms. I am curious to see how well he has done.

Riju and I sit in comfortable silence, watching the sands. Some kind of wild animal in the distance hops out of a sand bank, only to burrow again until its bulk is indiscernible from the dunes.

"You must be tired," she says to me, "allow my guard to show you where you will be staying for the night."

She claps her hands once, and a guard jogs up the stairs. "Please show the Princess to her room," she instructs, and the woman bows. "If you don't mind," she says to me, "I will stay here a little longer."

"Of course," I say. My heart races, knowing that as soon as I am alone in the room, my own plan begins to unfurl.

My room, adjacent to the throne room, is beautiful: well-guarded and cool, with a small window covered by a cloth curtain, and a luxuriously soft looking bed that my body aches for but must wait until later to enjoy. The guard will undoubtedly stay outside of my door, along with Dorian of course, but by the looks of things, I could fit out of the window and there would be only a small drop down to the sand below.

I dim a few of the lanterns near the door, and once I have inspected the room, I lay my pile of new clothing on the bed.

I step out of my leggings, and pull my shirt up over my head. It is nice to have yet another change of clothing. There is a small bowl of water on the elegant table near to the bed, along with a few towels. I dunk one into the cool water and begin to refresh myself.

Once I have dried, I pick up the long piece of fabric that must comprise the skirt. I hold it between my legs, pulling the fabric up against me before wrapping the entire width around so that it covers my waist. I knot it at the side of my hips. It looks a little like an oversized nappy. I untie it and try it a number of other ways, trying to picture how it looks on Riju, before I realise that I am slightly larger in the hip department than she is. _Curses!_

Finally, I manage to make it decent enough by wrapping it around my hips once or twice, and then tucking the fabric over at the front and back, so my inner thighs are thankfully concealed from both sides. I should be fine, providing there are no stiff breezes inside the palace.

As I unroll the top half of the outfit, which thankfully contains a banded part to protect my modesty, a small clay vial falls out and onto the bedcovers. I pop the cork open and smell the contents. It must be a type of oil. The smell rushes into my nostrils and reminds me of Link. This was what I could smell on him. Perhaps it protects our fair Hylian skin from the sun. I won't need to use it now, so I stash it on the table next to the wash bowl.

I put the top on – it is shorter than I thought, but an elasticated apron underneath the bandeau part preserves my modesty perfectly well. I guess that it is assumed I won't leave the throne room.

I comb my hair with my hands, letting every bit of it down, and gather it into a thick plait. The headscarf helps to keep it in even place, but there are a few shorter tendrils that stick out of the bundle and frame my face. No matter – it should not bother me.

Standing on the bed carefully, I can see out of the window. There is nobody directly below, but there are a few guards standing at an entrance about three hundred yards away. They would see me if I were careless. I delve in my pack and bring out a few cooked Silent Shrooms, crushing them in my palms to soften them before readying to stuff them into my mouth.

 _Am I really going to do this?_ The mushrooms are seconds from becoming a meal. I cannot waste them. I throw them into my mouth, chew and swallow quickly and then climb onto the bed again, my hands gripping the edge of the round window. I place my knees on the edge, and before my brain can give me any fresh doubt, I pass my legs underneath me and slide off the windowsill.

My feet hit the sand quietly and I sink a little, wobbling but staying upright. Less clothing and hair getting in the way seems to help, although I can feel the effects of the mushroom as I slink along the sand. The two windows above me will be interior castle windows, so one of the next few must lead to where Link is sleeping.

I am sure I have waited long enough. He usually sleeps deeply, unless of course he wants to stand guard. The walls slope inwards as a defensive build, and I am grateful that they do as I place the pad of my foot on them and prepare to push myself up.

I have picked the fourth window along as a complete guess. I hope that I am right.

It is a great struggle to reach the sill, even with the sloping wall. I have not climbed since I was a young girl, and those were at least castle flagstones. Link had tried to teach me to climb a cliff face once when I asked, but I could never scale a wall like he does. I grip the sill for dear life, trying not to relax my muscles once I have reached it, as now comes the difficult part.

It takes as much time to lift myself onto the sill as it did to climb the wall. Looking down into the room, by moonlight that frames my crouching shadow, I see to my immense relief that I was right.

Link lies in the bed by the window, covered by the sheet wrapped about his waist. He is without his shirt again, and his mouth is slightly open. I can hear his breathing and I know by the sound that he would not be woken, unless I were to land directly on top of him.

I am in danger of doing so if I do not move soon. I can feel my limbs shaking. I extend my leg, my eyes on Link's sleeping face, and thank my luck that he has left a torch lit nearby: I can see my foot connect with the edge of the bed. I push my weight onto that foot, and I make a long stride which thankfully lands me on the floor before the bed. I sink down to my knees, absorbing the power of the jump, and place my hands on the stone to steady myself.

Phew! If it weren't for those mushrooms, I would have made a lot more noise.

I know what I am here for, but I cannot help myself. I turn around to survey the sleeping Link. His hand across his stomach, I can see the scars on his lower stomach standing out in the moonlight against his suntanned skin. He is half bathed in light from the window, half in light from the lantern in the room. His lips parted, and his expression serene, he is in deep slumber.

I smile to myself, and turn my back on him for a moment. Now, where would he have put it?

The room is smaller than the one I am in, and a little barer, so I should be able to find what I have come for. I find a pile of Link's clothes, and realise to my shock that he must be sleeping naked. I turn back to him for a closer look, and then scold myself: _don't be indecent!_

 _Not here_ , I think, after a few minutes' fruitless searching. _It must be under the bed, for that is the only conceivable place left_. I step towards the bed and kneel before it, feeling about in the darkness, until my hand connects with something wooden and smooth.

 _Aha!_

I pull out the paraglider and look at it in the moonlight. Just as I suspected: it is just like the one in Father's chambers, which he had let gather cobwebs, and had never discussed with me although he had often caught me looking at it when I was infrequently allowed in there. It is simple in design. I am sure I can replicate it, although I know I have only a day.

Link suddenly takes a deep breath and stirs. His hand slips from his stomach and his feet wriggle, rubbing against each other, and his arm reaches up. I slink backwards, holding the glider between myself and him, hoping that if he awakens I can at least shield my face before I make a run for the door.

He stretches his arm up and over his head, resting it on the pillow, and his head turns to the side. With a big sigh, he is settled again. I step forward, and then jump almost out of my skin as his other arm flops out over the edge of the bed.

I should leave right away, so why does it feel as if my eyes are fixed to the floor, and my eyes fixed to his face?

I place the paraglider on the floor. I have a few minutes before the Silent Shrooms wear off. Maybe…

Before any good sense I have catches up, I am perched on the side of the bed, my hips level with his. I lower myself down on my hands and look over his sleeping face. His cheek is turned towards me, the light falling over his cheekbones and settling in the inner curves of his ear, and my gaze follows the tendon in his neck which stretches down to his collarbone. I thank goodness that at least he sleeps with a sheet around his waist. I can see it bunched around his hips. _Stop looking there! Eyes above the belt, Zelda, for Din's sake!_

I know it is not the moonlight, or a strange side-effect of the mushrooms that is making me feel the way I feel as I watch his chest rise and fall with each breath. I place my hands further apart on the bed so that my mouth is inches from his ear.

"I promise I will protect you," I say, my whisper hardly audible even in my own head. "Like you have protected me. I won't fail you."

"Hmm," he suddenly says. I freeze, but his eyes do not open, and he says no more.

I lower myself further, strands of hair touching his face, and I touch my lips to the apple of his cheek, placing a soft kiss there that I know he will not feel. I linger as long as I possibly can. I can smell his hair, and the warmth of him, and I know that if I do not leave in the next minute I will not be able to leave him at all.

I pull myself away, and it is as painful as pulling out a thorn. I grab the paraglider, my movements already starting to seem louder, and I step over Link's body carefully and spring lightly on the bed to get up to the window.

I look down at him. He smiles, fast asleep, and as he turns away from the wall, his hand comes to rest briefly upon his cheek. Maybe he will remember my night visit with a nice dream.

I hold the paraglider up above my head, balancing carefully: no time like the present to test it. Gripping each of the bars, I wait for a night breeze, and kick off from the wall.

The glider and I drop a good foot for a horrible moment, but as I tilt my wrists the air catches in the swell of the fabric, and I begin to flutter slowly to the ground. I careen towards the wall until my brain kicks into gear, telling me to straighten my hands. I sail past the first two windows, and then I head towards the wall, trying to point my legs downwards so I can kick off and gain a bit more height.

I can just about reach my windowsill with my arm. I clumsily let go of the glider and as I leave the air I slam my left side painfully against the bricks, only just managing to hold on. The glider almost clatters against the wall, but I heft it up and through the window, where I hear it hit the bed. I struggle for minutes to pull myself up, getting myself and my new clothes covered in a fine sweat, but I am through and I know to drop down onto the bed carefully. I land a little haphazardly on my right side.

There is no way I shall be able to sleep now, not only because of the adrenaline from my exploits, but because my heart is racing at the thought of my secret kiss.

* * *

 _A/N: I'm sorry for the confusion! This isn't by any means the last chapter of the story, merely the last one before things really kick off with the Yiga. Huge thanks for everyone's kind words!_


	31. A Second Embrace

**THIRTY-ONE**

 **A SECOND EMBRACE**

 _Master Link, of Hyrule_

I can't help but imagine that I had the most beautiful dream.

I am not sure if it was a dream, or another desert mirage: after settling down for my night's sleep, I am sure that at some point I stirred slightly, my face towards the window, and saw a beautiful woman sitting there.

She was facing out of the window, clad in white and completely still. Her feet, arms and stomach were bare, and while I couldn't be completely sure, I thought she had the face of the Princess.

To confuse me further, when I came to the throne room in the mid-morning, the first thing I noticed was a beautiful young woman in a white outfit taking to Lady Riju.

As she turned to me, I noticed that indeed, it was the Princess. The tails of her skirt fell to the floor like a trickle of water, and I realised I could see more of her now than I had ever seen before: her shapely legs, visible only as the breeze blew through the palace, the curve of her hips unhidden by the fabric wound tight around them, and her bare stomach and shoulders. Should I really be looking?

I know somewhat that the Gerudo outfit style is to hinder the heat and keep its wearer covered yet cool – believe me, I would like the Princess to never know my somewhat hands-on experience of Gerudo clothing – but I had fleetingly imagined that it is also built to celebrate the female figure and perhaps even to entice a male. After all, most Gerudo leave the village by our age with the intent of finding a husband.

The Princess moves towards me, and I notice the swing of her hips. Is she toying with me? The end of her plaited hair touches the top of her left shoulder. Her skin is fair, like the petals of the Silent Princess.

"Good morning," she says softly. "I trust you slept well?"

"Thank you, very well." I bow low, resisting the very sudden urge to grasp at and kiss the ends of her skirt in slavish desire. Indecent thoughts pushed aside, I stand, and begin to wonder if it is safe for me to straighten up. _Goodness me, do I need to be doused in cold water, like a misbehaving hound?_

"Weren't there supplies that you required, Link?" reminds Riju, standing from her throne. She is much more accustomed to the heat: there is no faint sheen of sweat upon her like there is upon myself and the Princess. I can see little beads of it around the Princess' hairline, and a few on her neck when I dare to glance there for the most fleeting of seconds.

"Yes," I reply, bowing again to Lady Riju. "I know I must not enter the city, though."

"Might I get them, instead?" offers the Princess suddenly. Riju and I glance at her. "Perhaps? It would give me a chance to take a tour of the town. I would love to meet your people, Riju. They will all know I am here by now, and I do not wish to seem rude."

Riju smiles. "Very well, Zelda." I am much more comfortable to hear her call the Princess by her name than I am hearing Sidon doing it. I am disappointed in myself for thinking ill of Sidon just now, after bidding him such a hearty goodbye earlier this morning, when he told me I was like a brother to him: a sentiment I echoed sincerely but with guilt laid heavy on my heart. How can I shamelessly adore the woman he plans to marry?

Riju and the Princess leave the palace, the Princess sheltered from the harsh sun by a guard who stands head and shoulders above all three of us holding a large woven parasol. I have handed over a list of my most required items, mostly arrows and a few elixir ingredients, along with all the Rupees I have.

With nothing else to do, I wander back to my sleeping quarters, being careful not to pass close by any windows.

The heat is sticky. Now I am safely indoors in the shade, I feel like I can remove my tunic and trousers. I sling them onto the bed, and pad around a little in just my undershorts. I much prefer the hot sun to the freezing cold of the Northern Deserts, and thinking about anywhere near Hebra makes me almost want to shiver.

I go through my plan in my head again. I have talked it through so much with myself, and Impa and Sidon, that I know it like I know my own name. I will make it swiftly and silently to the treasury, where I will set every available surface on fire, before hiding in the corridor and shooting the large insurmountable towers in the adjoining room. With any luck, I should be able to climb to the roof, and exit once most of the Yiga have fled, joining my brother and sisters in the fray.

Sidon is confident, although his role is less risky than mine is to begin with. We needn't worry about the Yiga making it up to him and the bowmen, as they cannot seem to teleport more than a few dozen feet at a time, but they may return fire from the small turrets embedded in the cliff. We will have flaming arrows trained upon them, and it is important that he burns these out as quickly as possible. Our victory hinges upon the element of surprise.

Now that my jealousy is mostly spent, I am glad the Princess had found a way around the dual problems of temperature and shock arrows, especially since the Thunder Helm would not stay safely upon Sidon's sizeable crown. I am concerned his bare feet or head may be hit, but Sidon would never let that happen to himself. I will never have a chance to say it, but I am proud of the Princess: the elixir she has created for Sidon is something I would never have thought of, and I know so many people cleverer than me who would have struggled to synthesise something half as effective. I hope she is spurred on by this success to continue with her studies.

The rubber armour is another thing, though. I have no doubt of where the Princess got the garment from, but I wonder what she said to the Great Fairy, and I confess I am worried about what the Fairy might have said to her. I know that they can certainly be meddlesome, and they are a little too interested in people's private business.

But then, why should the Princess care about the experiences of her Champion?

There is a jug of water, clearly to pour myself a drink should I want one, but I am so hot and bothered that I raise it to the nape of my neck and pour some out, leaning so it cascades down my back and chest. It is wonderfully cool. I bring the jug around and pour some over the front of my chest, and then a little over each shoulder. I cup my hand, pour a decent amount inside, and rub all up the back of my neck and into my hairline, before pouring a little over the crown of my head. I seethe as the cold water makes my hair stand on end.

Was that a knock on my door? The palace is so quiet, I suppose there's no way I could have mistaken it. It must be one of the guards, perhaps delivering my items from the Princess.

"Come in," I call, quickly pulling my tunic over my head.

To my complete surprise, the Princess enters, carrying a wrapped cloth bundle. Surprised, I rush to her, and take what is in her arms.

"Careful," she says in a whisper, "there are arrows inside it."

I turn and tuck the bundle under the unmade bed. A droplet of water runs down the inside of my calf, and I remember with horror that I am trouser-less. The tunic and shorts are long enough not to be indecent, I suppose, she may not notice…

"Are you prepared?" she asks me, with a tremor in her voice.

"Yes, Highness," I say, taking a deep breath. She is stunning up close. She has always been a beautiful young woman from a young age, but there is nothing like being near to her.

She comes even closer. I should not be looking at her: I should cast my eyes away, until she finds me rude or convinces herself I have nothing to say to her and leaves in disgust.

She takes both of my hands, which I believe are trembling. I have an involuntary muscle spasm, and squeeze her fingers by accident. She is so close now. She holds my hands in hers, pressing them to her chest, so that the only things between us are my arms. To my surprise, I can feel upon my bare arms the softness of her breasts.

She is staring into my eyes, daring me to look away, but I know I cannot. For the first time in a long while, I am at my absolute weakest.

"Is there anything I can do," she begins, "anything I can say to change your mind?"

She squeezes my hands tightly. I lead her to the bed, and gesture for her to sit beside me. I delve in my pack on the edge of the bed and I manage to produce the Sheikah slate with my shaking hands. I call up the pictures of the hideout again, and I try to show them to her, but she pushes the slate down into my lap with a sad shake of her head.

"Please, don't show me the plans again. I already know. I'm just worried that you've taken this mission on for all of the wrong reasons."

I take her by the hands again, gently, so that she has chance to shake me off if my advances are unwanted. "Highness, the Yiga will track you to the ends of Hyrule. They tracked us to Zora's Domain, and it was by the blessings of Hylia that they didn't strike us there." I lick my dry lips as I stroke her soft hands with my thumbs. "They broke into Chief Riju's secret cache, trying to steal the Thunder Helm, so I believe they were planning yet another strike, until we moved on. Kakariko is well guarded against the evil of the Yiga. You were right to take us there."

"Why won't they stay defeated?" the Princess asks, frowning.

"They send a larger and more threatening force each time," I explain. "We were incredibly lucky to have Prince Sidon and his warriors with us at the second strike. If we don't execute this plan, they will eventually send an army, perhaps when we are least prepared."

She bites her lip and looks away, fighting tears as she reluctantly accepts what I am saying.

"I would gladly face an army for you," I say, "but this is the only way I can protect you."

"And the people of Hyrule," she insists.

"Yes," I admit, "but I would gladly die defending you."

"That doesn't please me to hear," she whispers. "You did that once, don't you remember? You died for me outside Hateno, a hundred years ago…"

"And then your selflessness and divine power gave me another chance at life, Highness. I owe everything to you. I fought Ganon knowing that my victory would bring you back."

"Then don't waste that second chance I gave you. You have more to live for than you could ever imagine." Her eyes shine defiantly. "I know you, Link. I know what you do not remember: I watched you, every second I was sealed inside my castle as Ganon's prisoner, I saw you awaken with nothing more than your name and the clothes on your back. I know Impa prepared you as best she could, but she couldn't tell you everything, could she? Impa, my Father… they told you exactly what they wanted you to remember. I know you remembered me, but do you really remember yourself?"

My mouth moves, but I have nothing to say. She is completely right. Taking advantage of my stunned silence, she leans up and with her eyes closed, she kisses me softly on the lips.

This is it. My final test from the Goddess, before I am surely set to die: I must try and resist her. The old wound from the shrine in Kakariko splits open again, as I know in my heart once more that we might love each other, but we are just not meant to be. I am petrified with both desire and fear.

She cups my face in both hands. Our foreheads meet and press together, and we huff our hot breaths into each other's faces. I start to pull away, slowly, as if she may not notice.

I step backwards off the bed and turn away, towards the jug of water, where I raise it to my mouth and drink straight from the spout. The water slakes my thirst, but does nothing to extinguish the fire in my heart and body.

I hear a shuffling noise behind me, but I try to imagine she is not there, in a vain attempt to bring myself down from my state of arousal. I try to think of something distracting: mentally going through every shrine test I have ever completed, that time I broke my rib so badly that it stuck through the skin, Prince Sidon-

 _Prince Sidon_. If there was ever a reason not to pursue my feelings at this moment, it is because someone else loves her. Someone she is far more suited to, someone who intends to make her happy, and someone to whom marriage would be possible and make a lot more sense. I missed my chance. I should have told him that I loved her, but then what could have been done about it?

I take another, slower drink, and then I turn around to see her, bathed in the light from the window above the bed. Her eyes are searching my face, wondering what I am doing.

She is beautiful, and in that instant, I know, untouchable.

I set the jug of water down and walk towards her. Her hands reach out to touch me again, fingertips caressing my shoulders and then my back, but I can see her expression is troubled. I will not play with her emotions again.

I take her hands, but I think she knows our moment has come to an end, never to be.

"Fine," she says, seeming to come to terms with my decision. "But just promise me you won't act recklessly tomorrow. Don't go where I cannot be with you…"

She stops, tears appearing in her eyes. "Don't leave me alone."

"I will come back," I promise. "I will return-"

"Don't leave," she repeats, clinging to my back and pressing her golden head to my chest as if she might never let go. "What if we never see each other again?"

I look her in the eyes, as teardrops fall from them. I brush one away with my thumb. I cannot think of anything to say to her, anything that would not sound cheapened, or a false promise.

If I never see her again, I think, this is how I would remember her: the feel of her in my arms, the way her hair falls down her back, her smile, her laugh. We hold each other, both unable to let go, the hot flame of desire burnt down in the foreboding mood brought on by the harsh reality of our places in the world.

I don't want to be the one to tell her she should go. After a few slow breaths between us, she pulls away, and carefully rearranges her clothing. I sit back on the bed, feeling for the first time since I accepted my mission like a man about to be put to death.

She leans down, her hand on my cheek, and kisses me one last time. As she goes to leave, trying to hide her tears, I catch her by the wrist.

"My heart is with you, Highness," I tell her. "Wherever you are, that is where it will be."

"How can you say that to me now," she sobs quietly as she turns away, almost running for the door.

As it shuts, slamming the door on perhaps my last chance to steal away everything I wanted, I pound the mattress as hard as I can with my fist. I slam down hard on my back, staring up at the window with all my might, daring the tears in my eyes to fall.

At least she must know how I feel now. I do not have to keep it inside of me now, until it threatens to burn through my eyes every time I glance at her.


	32. The First Strike (Link)

**THIRTY-TWO**

 **THE FIRST STRIKE**

 _Master Link, of Hyrule_

It is time.

My bow on my back, quiver full of arrows, and my sword in its sheath at my side, I am as prepared as I will ever be. I greet Lady Riju and the Princess, and announce my intention to leave immediately.

To my surprise, Riju strides forward, and embraces me around my shoulders. She smells of the warm desert air. "Go with the Goddess," she whispers, "and carry out your duty with courage."

"I will, Lady Riju." She pulls back from me with a bold smile on her face.

Princess Zelda, although she seems to have barely slept, looks as beautiful as she did in my room last night.

"Please," she says, pulling a small vial out of the fold of her skirt, "take this. It may help." I recognise the deep red elixir as flameproof. Hopefully, I will never need it.

"Thank you, Princess."

Boldly, I take her hand and kneel, pressing it to my closed lips. Standing up is the hardest thing I have done in a long while, and I quickly unsheathe the Sheikah slate and tap out my coordinates on its screen.

I keep my eyes fixed on the Princess, until she blurs into the desert sand, and my eyes adjust to the bright sun outside of the swordswomen's shrine.

I change clothes. Unfortunately, the tunic she gifted me is unsuitable for this mission: being bright blue and longer than the average garment, I cannot risk it giving away my whereabouts or causing me to stumble as I climb. I change into the soft, light Sheikah uniform, proud to carry their emblem into the Yiga clan in the spirit of rebellion, and roll the tunic up as small as I can into my pack.

The flameproof elixir is packed deep in the bottom, and with a quiver full of flaming arrows, I will bring chaos to the Yiga the likes of which they have never seen.

I set off from the shrine, scaling the cliff as quickly as I can. I must admit, as much of an insufferable presence he was, I miss the convenience afforded me by Revali's Gale. My abilities left me the moment the Champion's spirits were appeased, much as the Princess believes her powers have left her. Even the sight of his spirit encircling me with the east winds before he faded away with a cocky salute was a small comfort.

The hot sun beats down upon me as I climb, keeping above ground so that I am not detected by the foot soldiers along the entrances. I see their banners wave in the breeze, and I am comforted by the thought that even now, Sidon's archers are waiting in place.

As I approach the entrance, I think of Dorian's little girls and how they will never again see their mother. It is for them, and the orphaned sons and daughters of Hyrule, that I do this. It is for them that I will put a stop to these terrorists that dare threaten the people of my land, and the life of my beloved Princess.

I push all distracting thoughts of Princess Zelda aside as I climb steadily down to the mouth of the cavernous entrance, and drop inside. There is nobody around, but I cannot drop my guard. They have rehung the curtains over the entrance – let them try to rebuild, but every time they do, I will destroy them.

I slip through as fast as a lizard, and at the top of the staircase, I can see the first blademaster guard stalking around the tower. I could drop him with an arrow right now, saving the efforts of someone later, but I must not jeopardise my mission.

I move like fluid to pass behind him, and climb the tower as fast as my hands and feet will carry me. Once again, their hive is littered with the snack they are obsessed with: there are bananas on shelves above the wall opposite the guard at the door. I draw my bow and knock one down with an arrow.

Foolishly, he goes to investigate. These idiots never learn.

Through the gate behind him, up the stairs and the huge ladder, which I climb with ease, and into the largest of the rooms. Here, I will make sure the fire spreads fully until I try to make any exit: the fact that they have draped every available surface with cloth banners will help me, as if they needed to remind themselves of their own sigil everywhere they look.

I race deftly over the balcony and across the ceiling beams, being careful not to stir dust. Hovering above the last guard, I pull out the paraglider ready for a smooth descent, as well as a couple of bananas.

I toss the banana down, as if throwing a boomerang, hoping the trajectory will not give away my position. But this guard is as stupid as any Yiga, and he cannot resist his favourite snack, even though it seems to have materialised from nowhere. I know I am known and often gently teased for my appetite, but I am not as stupid as this.

The moment he crouches, I am in the air, sailing through the gate to the treasury.

Reaching for a flame-tipped arrow, I stretch my bow, and shoot the large banner that hangs upon the wall. With all the dust in the room, it catches and spreads quickly. I get to work, and any wooden surface is soon covered in flame arrows. Out of my pack I pull an old shirt that is covered in mud and bloodstains, tear it into pieces, and I douse it with the small bottle of solar oil Riju gave me as a sunblock, and hold it to the nearest flame, jumping away as it ignites fiercely. I toss the pieces quickly over the wooden frame.

Smoke is starting to cloud the room. The mask over my face will protect me somewhat, but not enough. I crouch behind the treasure chest in the middle, the only part of the room I have not doused in fire.

The first guards come quickly enough, and are treated to a fire arrow directly in the chest and through the neck, respectively. Their bodies drop to the floor, crumpling over each other like ragdolls, and I shoot them a few more times to really get things going.

The fire behind me is now a roaring wall of heat. If I am to stand any chance of survival, I am going to need to get out of here within the next five minutes, if I can.

I start towards the corridor, scaling the wall over the burning corpses. The smoke follows me, thick and acrid with dust and burning flesh.

The guards in the next room are clever enough to recognise a fire, and know not to run towards it. I drop to the floor as they are running, abandoning their torches on the ground.

I swap to bomb arrows and raise my bow, aiming at the unsteady beams above me, running into the room to give myself a good amount of distance. The powder-tipped arrows make short work of the rotting wood, and they fall across the entrance to the treasury. Nobody is getting in or out that way again.

Swapping arrows once more, I make sure that every hanging banner in the room is decorated with fire, cutting the strings of the red lanterns and watching as they turn into little balls of flame, catching everything nearby.

This has been easy. Perhaps a little too easy?

I scale the tower in front of me. If I can make sure this is aflame by the time I leave, I am sure I can probably make a clean break out of the front entrance, although I am starting to cough. Oil from the felled lanterns is choking out a cloud of thick, black smoke.

My vision is failing, so I have no choice but to drop from the tower and walk around the front. I wave my hand in front of my face, and a glowing light and a sizzle in front of me takes me by surprise.

A Yiga footsoldier that I hadn't accounted for is standing before me, with a loaded bow and a bomb arrow pointed directly at me.

I pull my shield out, ready to take the force of the bolt. I know I can survive this, even at close range: it's just going to hurt.

As the fuse fizzes, I stare at him defiantly. _You will not win this_. Suddenly, he changes trajectory and lets the arrow go a few feet above my head.

As I realise what he has done, it is almost too late for my evasive dodge roll. I roll over on my shield to my right side and see part of the tower behind me, still aflame, beginning to topple. I see a flash of red light that tells me he has teleported to the other side, and his second and third bomb arrows hit the tower from behind. The wood creaks and cracks, and the founding pillars start to bow towards me.

I run to the side, just in time to see the tower hit the smaller tower behind it, which turns out to be nothing more than a few wooden crates stacked with a cloth covering it. Fire leaps from surface to surface and quickly spreads across the whole thing.

I start to worry. All right, so I cannot exit from this room, but I am sure I can climb something. As the Yiga teleports in front of the flaming pile of wood and crates and runs for the exit, I realise I have set every possible surface on fire. Smoke and sweat start to pour into my eyes, and I am coughing. I suddenly remember the flame-proof elixir the Princess gave me – I could drink it and climb, as painful as it would be, across the flaming wood to the door from the lair. Dropping weakly to one knee, I rifle in my pack with one hand, the other arm covering my nose and mouth. My shaky hand finds it and pulls it out, but before I can pop the cork, a gloved hand appears from the smoke cloud, snatches it from me and dashes it on the floor.

The last thing I see before I lose consciousness is the feet of the blademaster who stole the Princess' gift from me, and I hear the snapping of wood being eaten by fire, and the low mirthless laughter of my eventual murderer.


	33. A Hail of Arrows (Prince Sidon)

**THIRTY-THREE**  
 **A HAIL OF ARROWS**

* * *

 _Prince Sidon_

* * *

I have my eye on the sun today. Zelda taught me how to read its movement, and she told me that every two hours, I must take another elixir.

I have plenty with me today, in small vials, as well as a very potent emergency extract that the Princess says could cause nausea and dizziness, and should only be used in dire emergency.

My heart is full of the Princess, and my head is full of confidence. I know that we will succeed today. These ladies I am with are the best archers in the land: they are crouched in the sand, ready with their bows for the first signal. My eyesight is not as good out here in the low sun, so I have instructed my second-in-command, Katta, to be the eyes for the group.

She kneels before the canyon, looking down, her gaze unbroken. Shortly, when Link has set the fire, dozens of cowardly Yiga will burst from the entrance of the cave.

One of the women suddenly points to the cavern entrance: it is clouded over, as if there were a small sandstorm gathering in front of it. Every bow and arrow is trained upon the entrance, including mine. Sand sticks to my sweating skin as I kneel, watching for the flash of red as the Yiga panic and leave their flaming lair.

Captain Buliara and her women are well hidden, posted in among the jagged cliffs up the sides of the canyon, some of them archers ready to mount a second strike, but most of them skilled spear wielders and swordswomen. I am amazed by the Gerudo: a mostly serious people, they make dedicated and mighty warriors, watching them drill in silence this morning at the top of the canyon was enchanting. I could learn a lot from them, if only I had the time.

The first Yiga - two foot soldiers - flee the entrance, bringing more and darker smoke out as they run in a panic. Katta shouts, and their panic is quickly ended by the closest round of archers, who put a neat string of arrows through them. The bodies fall to the floor and remain unmoving.

There is nothing for a few moments. "Hold your fire," I call across the clifftop.

We can hear the crackling of wood and the lick of the flames, and suddenly the outpouring begins. Several foot soldiers, the smaller and quicker Yiga, race out and begin to teleport towards the exit: Buliara's first wave of fighters drop from the lower cliffs and ambush them.

"Hold!" I repeat, waiting for the blademasters, knowing they are more dangerous in face-to-face combat, but slower and much easier for us to dispatch. The first few run out and are quickly made to resemble pincushions by my strike.

They are still in panic, but some of them have noticed the warriors up front and have started to mount a feeble charge. The foot soldiers continue to teleport, but thankfully they telegraph where they are about to arrive with their glowing aura, meaning the fast eyes of my archers are able to stick them full of bolts as they arrive in place.

"Highness!" One of the women at the front of the line points at the front entrance, towards a group of three blademasters who are retreating, likely to regroup or formulate a plan. I load up a bomb arrow, nock my bow, and let it go. It sails through the narrow entrance and at least one of them is blown back by the explosion.

They are starting to fight back. Buliara's troops approach in a V formation from the desert entrance, as more of them pour out of the entrance, armed with the strange circular weapons and the horrid sharp sickles. They swing them through the air, but our women with spears have the advantage: not only do they throw them with ferocity and accuracy, but they are able to get the first strike in.

I am worried to see that there is no sign of Link. We discussed that he might not make it out – or rather, he tried to tell me that he might not, but I dismissed him. Part of it was my overconfidence, but I know I did not want to hear that he might not survive, just in case his prediction came true.

I must not become impatient! There are still Yiga pouring out like crimson blood from a fresh wound, but we still have the upper hand. Some of the foot soldiers with bows return fire, but we have the sun directly above us, and none of them can keep a straight shot before they are stopped by Buliara and her women.

It is time for us to move down from the cliffs and join the fray. "Advance!" I cry, sweeping with my arm, and we drop to the lower fringes of the cliffs. The women, light on their feet, make their way down stone after stone with their bows drawn. As I land on the lip of sand, I stow my bow and arrows on my back and pull my spear from between my shoulder blades.

I am on the ground, and as I run through the first surprised clansman, I see something approaching out of the smoky entrance: something at least ten feet tall, and covered in rags. What is the meaning of this?

Buliara appears beside me, with a harsh battle cry as she puts paid to a blademaster with her claymore. She follows my glance towards the entrance.

"What is that?" she asks me.

As the smoke clears, I see two blademasters, their swords sheathed at their sides, and a third behind them, approaching with his hands clasped in front of him, as if at prayer. Is he daring to taunt us? There is a long whistle from him, and suddenly all the Yiga remaining nearby disappear from the fray amid puffs of smoke, and reappear behind the trio of blademasters, and whatever they have on the pole.

"Behold, mighty warriors," booms the leader blademaster, approaching the wooden beam and gripping the rag draped over it, "The new flag of the Yiga!"

The fabric flutters to the floor, and to our collective horror, I see that they have bound Link, and tied him to the pole.

"Link!" Buliara and I cry, in unison. His head lolls, his arms are bound by the wrists above him and his feet bound to the pole. There is a river of blood flowing from his nose and mouth, and he is doused about the chest and arms in what looks to be a kind of red powder.

"What is the meaning of this, Yiga!" I cry, fury filling my every fibre.

"So, this boy truly is the Champion, is he?" shouts the blademaster. He draws and raises his blade, and sticks the point into Link's bare foot. Link barely moves, but I can see his sharp intake of breath.

"Cease or die, immediately!" Buliara cries.

"You will leave this place," orders the brute, "and you will never return, or-" he clicks his fingers and several foot soldiers approach from behind with burning torches.

"Or we will set our flag ablaze."

Buliara growls, like a furious animal. My heart leaps into my throat. I will not stand and watch my brother die, but we cannot give over our advantage. There are few Yiga left, maybe a little less than fifty. We could take them.

I take a few steps forward, and as soon as I do, the torches move closer. Link turns his head to look at me, and slowly, awkwardly, shakes his head. Blood from his face drips onto the sand.

"Retreat," hisses Buliara. "We can regroup and come back."

"They know we will do that," I argue, reluctantly. "They will move somewhere else, somewhere we might not be able to find."

"But we cannot-"

"We cannot afford to lose this fight," I insist, knowing that the other side of my remark is ' _but we can afford to lose Link'_.

"Well?" laughs the blademaster. "What is your decision? You don't think the Princess would miss her young hero?"

My blood boils. I hear a rushing in my ears. Buliara looks at me, her face full of dread: neither of us wants to be the one to give the death sentence to our friend. The torches inch closer to Link's bound body.

A Yiga footsoldier holding a torch inclines his head slightly, and before I even register the arrow whoosh past my face, it is sticking out of the eye in his mask. He falls to the floor, and his surprised fellows all barely turn before they, too find themselves felled by more arrows.

I turn to look in the direction of the shots, and see a Gerudo woman in white riding a paraglider not unlike Link's, straight towards the desert floor. Her arms draped across the handles, her bow is tilted and drawn, and her next arrow hits one of the blademasters holding the pillar up. He staggers.

"Go!" she cries, landing on the sand, abandoning the glider and drawing her bow once more. I know that voice, but before I can be sure, I notice the Yiga teleporting back into battle as the pillar falls to the ground.

I race towards Link, closing the distance, but as I am about to reach the place he will fall, I see a torch sail through the air.

The torch hits the sand and rolls, and Link lands just beside it.

I bellow like the cannons of war. The flame jumps from the torch, and covers him in seconds. The Yiga that threw the torch suddenly appears beside me, swiping at my armour with his sickle, and I am distracted enough to prevent Link from burning to death.

The Gerudo woman runs to him and starts to throw sand over him, almost completely burying him. She grabs an abandoned sickle and cuts quickly through the ropes binding his feet and hands, hefts the pillar off him, and rolls him back and forth in the sand, pawing and covering him. A blademaster draws my full attention, and I must look away.

This is the brute responsible for the almost certain death of my brother and friend. I will kill him as slowly as I can, and as he begs for his life, I will have my satisfaction. He stalks me slowly, taunting me. I must keep my temper!

"Princess," shouts Buliara from over my shoulder, and as she throws her shield towards the woman standing over Link's buried body, she confirms my suspicions. I know my foe is waiting for my distraction. I just manage to see her bury the shield half into the ground, crouching behind it, and then suddenly she and Link are shrouded in blue light. They disappear high above the battleground, through the smoke and noise like a bolt of reversed lightning.

Knowing that Link's body is carried away from battle, and the Princess is safe, I am filled with fire. The blademaster strikes, and I parry with my knife, kicking out with my leg and catching him in the stomach. He slides on the sand, but regains his footing quickly.

"You are dead, Yiga," I cry to him as we stalk each other.

"And you have killed the Hero of Hyrule," he taunts. I resist the urge to shout defiantly, twisting my face into an angry smirk. "Thank you for completing the task for me: I should hate to dirty my hands with his commoner blood."

"Noble blood," I correct, "which will not be spilt in vain."

I leap towards him as if leaping into water, and aiming straight for his neck, I slice across. I land before him and he drops to his knees, scattering sand.

"So gracious of you," I say, seeing the red gash I cut across his neck, "to kneel before me."

"Zora," he croaks. I kneel and meet his mask with my eyes. I am still a good head and shoulders taller, so I bring my face as close to his as I can, holding my blade close to his throat.

"Prince of the Zora, to you."

My blade moves swift against his throat, for my friend, Link. With a gurgle and a bloody choke, he clutches at his chest, and I step away and let him fall, his blood coating the sand.

The battle is ending around me. I see to my horror the bodies of some of the Gerudo littered among the many others in black and red, but we have beaten them. Fire and heat is pouring out of the lair: they are finished.

Any bodies on the floor that move or twitch get my spear straight through their throats. To my delight, I see Buliara moving among the smoke, doing much the same as she dispatches a stirring blademaster with a dagger to the chest.

"Regroup," she cries as she sees me, and we begin to retreat to the entrance of the cavern in our groups, marching across the sand.

"Archers, ready yourselves," I say, drawing the bow from my back and loading a bomb arrow. "First wave, ready."

The women around me stop, and on my cry of "Fire!" we release our bolts. The canyon explodes with orange light, and the very rocks rumble.

"Second wave," cries Buliara, "Ready!"

I reload my bow and retreat further just as she gives her women the order to fire. The second wave of arrows arches over our head and hits the higher rocks around the cavern. The cliffs rumble as the Yiga cave begins to collapse, pulling the landscape down with it, roaring like a great wounded beast.

"Retreat! Retreat!" I cry, sweeping my arm over my head once more. A wounded Gerudo limps out of the smoke, clutching at her bloody leg. There is terror in her eyes. I turn and race towards her, and sweep her into my arms as rocks begin to hit the sand around us.

"Thank you, your Highness," whispers the soldier in my arms as I run across the desert. I can feel my skin scorching, whether this is due to the heat of the fire and destruction behind us, the rough sand cutting into my scales, or the fact that I am running dangerously close to requiring an elixir. I can do this. I can make the run back to the city, I am sure, even with the extra weight of the muscular woman in my arms. Sweat runs into my eyes. I wonder of the Princess, and Link: did they make it back to the city in time? I try not to think of the likelihood of Link's survival, knowing not what the Yiga had done to him before they strung him up, or how long a Hylian can withstand flame, or what that red powder they had coated him in was comprised of.

I thank the Goddesses that the Yiga are now wiped from our lands, and any last remnants will be too scattered to regroup. No more will these people live in fear.

* * *

 _A/N: Apologies for no notes at the end of previous few chapters - I'm always worried about mood whiplash with the more intense chapters but it is very important to thank each and every one of you for your views and reviews. I hope you all continue to enjoy. - Neet_


	34. The Burnt Man

**THIRTY-FOUR**  
 **THE BURNT MAN**

* * *

 _Princess Zelda_

 _ _Please note: blood/injury detail/medical treatment ahead in this chapter.__

* * *

They say that you do not realise you are in shock until it is too late.

Amid the fray, arrows hitting the sand just inches from us, I feel for Link's Sheikah slate in the pouch at his hip and manage to call up the map with trembling fingers. I touch the shrine nearest to the town, clutching the slate in one hand as I bury my arm in the pile of sand, grabbing Link's body as tightly as I can.

As we melt away from the rage of the battle, I am unsure if I am holding a corpse. I hear nothing but the rushing in my ears, and as we rise out of the sand I clutch him as hard as I can without crushing him. Just as suddenly, I feel the ground under my feet and feel his weight lift from me.

His head, covered in sand and blood, rocks limply back. I brush sand from his hair and eyes, and place my fingers inelegantly into his mouth, scooping out a good chunk of clotted red sand.

I look up. Two of the guards have noticed our sudden arrival.

"HELP!" I scream, at the top of my voice. "HELP US!"

They drop their weapons and race across the sand as I pull my bloody fingers from Link's mouth. His jaw hangs open. There is so much sand stuck to him, and so much blood. _Oh Goddess, I can smell singed flesh…_

"Help me take him in," I cry to the guards, who dutifully and un-squeamishly grasp his ankles and his underarms. "It's Master Link."

I reluctantly leave him in the arms of the Gerudo women, and race ahead into the town. I cup my hands around my mouth as every woman nearby turns to look at me, covered as I now am in sand and gore.

"I need water, right now! As many vessels of water as you can spare!"

Women gasp and scatter as the guards carrying Link come through the gates. Coming down the stairs in the distance, flanked by guards, I can see Riju. As soon as she recognises me, she breaks into a run.

"Princess!" she cries, skidding to a halt in front of me. "What has happened?"

I have the guards lay Link directly on the ground. He should not be moved any further, if his injuries are as bad as I think they are.

The collective brainpower of the Gerudo women comes out in full force. As well as the jugs of water I cried for a moment ago, several shopkeepers bring their windbreakers across to block the view of Link's body, and women lay cloth rags, small knives, ointments, fruits, elixirs and all kinds of other instruments, almost like a tribute to the fallen warrior.

Riju pushes her way into the modesty tent. "Is he alive?" she asks abruptly.

I ignore her for a moment, and instead pour a jug of the water over Link's face, blocking his mouth and nose with my free hand. The fresh blood washes away, and though his face is swollen, I am relieved to see there is no burnt tissue around his head.

"Breathing at least, I think."

"What are we doing?" Riju kneels beside me, another jug ready in her hand.

"Flush the sand away from the injuries," I explain, trying to work on one thing at a time. "Any fabric attached to burnt skin, try and cut it away with scissors."

I lean down to his nose and strain to hear his breath, laying my head down so I can see his chest rise and fall. I can hear it, faintly, and see it coming in short spurts. If he has passed out from the pain, he will not remain unconscious for long.

"Don't waste the water," I snap at Riju, as she reaches up to pour more over his face. "Use it to cleanse the sand and debris."

I pick up a pitcher of water and shuffle towards his head, placing it onto my knees. I force his lower jaw down and pour the water in, as if giving him a drink, before twisting his head to the side. Red liquid followed by a few chunks of bloody sand pour onto the ground and across my legs. I hear the snip of scissors as Riju strips bloody fabric from his arms. There is the worst of it: it seems to be all external, and as she peels what remains of his uniform away I see burnt skin but no more puncture wounds or slashes. I dig my fingers into the sides of his body and check either side of his ribcage with my fingers: my touch meets intact bones, and there is no murmur from him.

"Should we bind his injuries?" Riju asks.

"Not the burns," I say, which I cannot bring myself to look directly at right now. "Fabric will stick to the fresh blood, and tear more of the tissue away on removal. Once I know he is conscious, we must move him to the palace."

"A stretcher!" cries Riju, standing and clapping her hands loudly. "And fetch more water and supplies straight to the palace!"

"There will be more," I warn her. "Perhaps not as bad as this, but we must prepare for the wounded."

"Beds are ready in the palace infirmary," she tells me, glancing back.

There is a stirring in my lap, followed by bursts of coughing, and Link opens his eyes. I see him struggling to focus as he looks upon me. I wonder how long the shock will keep the pain away, and just as I am thinking this, his eyes widen.

He lets out the most bloodcurdling noise I have ever heard. It is worse, somehow _much_ worse than even the rattle and hiss of his last breath: he squeezes his eyes shut as his body goes into spasm and he howls with pain.

"Shh-hh-hh," I try to soothe, laying my hand on his stomach and gently pushing his raised body to the floor. Riju bravely holds his kicking legs still. A child cries in the town square, frightened by the noise.

"Link, come on, stay still."

He takes a huge gulp of air, coughs, and screams some more.

"We can move him," I shout over his racket to Riju. "Do you have something to keep him flat?"

One of the windcheaters is thrown aside, and folded onto the ground in three by a nearby woman. Two guards come to his head and his feet as I try to stop him from writhing. Another guard snatches up the scant medical supplies and rushes them away.

"After three, we lift him," I order, crouched by his midsection, speaking over his cries which have dimmed to low moans. _I am sorry, Link, but you are not going to like this_.

"Three," I say, to spare him the chance to tense his muscles, and the guards quickly lift and lower him onto the windcheater. He screams and thrashes.

As they race up to the palace, up the stairs with me running behind, I can hear him start to make words. " _Stop_ ," he is crying, " _please, make it stop_."

I choke back a sob as the women, much faster than I, race him up the palace steps. "To my room," orders Riju to the guards carrying him, as well as to several women with jugs of water and other items.

Link is laid on the floor by the two guards, where the best light is. He coughs and chokes, and lets out another yell.

"What do we do?" Riju cries hoarsely, hopping from foot to foot, wringing her hands, tears running down her face. I swallow my own and look down at my unwilling patient.

His lips are moving, but I cannot tell what he is saying: he is probably babbling hysterical nonsense. His breaths are regular, but ragged, and Riju has not quite managed to cut all the clothing away from him.

"Scissors," I demand, and she scatters to the bedside, pulling everything to the floor with a crash and a clatter. Her shaking hands thrust scissors towards me, and I cut a long swathe up the centre of his chest, and tear the Sheikah clothing away.

I am shocked but relieved: his wounds are quite bad, but not fatal. Suddenly, like I am seeing a map form across his skin, I can see what needs to be done.

"Tell me all you know," begs Riju.

"Burns," I say as I cut down the sleeves of the arm closest to me. The arms and hands are my worst concern, but as I strip the fabric that has already begun to stick to him, he clenches his fists and screams. "I believe they are second degree at best. Get me some cloths; soak them in water."

She turns around for strips of cloth, dunking them into a nearby jug and retrieving them.

"Over his chest," I say, raising his upper arm and trying desperately to see how bad his hands are. They look to be the worst area, and he is not helping by clenching his fists. "Gently wash and dab away the blood, and we can see the actual damage underneath. Plenty of water for burns, never oil or ointment."

She gently dabs at the fresh blood on his stomach and chest with the wet compress, until the skin underneath is red and exposed. There is no actual sign of exposed muscle or nerves, or other important things I am sure to recognise, so I imagine most of the blood had run down from his face.

"Cut through his leggings once you are done, down the seams," I instruct Riju. She works quickly, and never questions me, although her hands are shaking. Link is whispering something: I put my head close to his, and hear him repeating like a prayer or mantra: " _Make it stop make it stop make it stop_."

"I am trying," I say to him. "You have to help me. Stop clenching your hands."

He groans and twists, forcing his hands into fists again.

"Link!" I shout at him. His eyes snap open, his gaze far away. His head lolls to one side and he almost looks at me. "I know it hurts, but I can make it stop if you'll just help me. Open your fists, please."

His hand becomes suddenly limp. As I suspected, checking over the palm, it is the worst area. The clots of black-red blood are actually burnt away skin, and in some areas, I can see muscle tissue across the palm. I turn my head and breathe deeply through a tide of nausea, telling myself: _it's just a hand_.

"My – sword -" he gasps, and I understand.

"I'll do what I can," I say without looking at him, leaning over to grab a jug of water. I pour it over his whole hand, and he cries out. I can deal with injuries, but I know next to nothing about recovery – I don't know in truth if he will ever lift his sword again.

Once he is settled and his wounds are dressed, I will use the slate to call Impa for her advice. Right now, my fingers are racing, tearing my outfit to create more cloth, exposing my bare back and legs to the sun pouring in through the window.

"Lady Riju!" calls a voice from halfway down the stairs. Riju glances over, and then back to me.

"Is he the only one burnt?" she asks me. "I can treat injuries, but nothing like this."

"I think so, yes. Go," I urge her. "I'll be fine. Please send more water up to me, if it can be spared, and fresh cloth or rags."

"Take what you want from the bedclothes," she says, and I don't argue. She stands up and races down the stairs, leaving me alone with my patient.

 _It's just a body_ , I tell myself, _just a body needing to be fixed, like a faulty machine_. I don't need to remind myself that not even a day ago, I had my hands on this body, and his now ruined hands holding mine. I push aside these thoughts and tell myself that this is just like the diagrams in the medical journals I have read and read, and that everything will heal.

I wonder if there is anything for his pain in among the supplies the women of the town gave us. I lean over him, towards the little pile Riju made on the floor, and see a couple of bottles: there is something red that could, I suppose, be synthesised from hearty ingredients. I open the bottle and sniff the contents. They smell foul. I take a small sip, ignoring the taste and texture: my leg muscles suddenly ache a little less.

"Drink this," I say, as I tip the bottle into his mouth. He gasps, swallows hard, and licks his lips. I hear him make a great sigh.

"Better?" I ask. Out of breath, he cannot seem to answer. His entire chest begins to rise and fall with normal, slower breaths. Why didn't I give him that sooner? I had no idea it was even there. Some wiser woman than I must have left it for us.

I pull a cotton sheet down from the bed, and start to cut it into strips, which I lay across his chest and douse with cold water. He lets out a gasp as the cold water hits his skin, but then his breathing returns steadily to normal. I dip more fabric rolls in water and bind his hands.

I need to check the rest of him over, but at least I have stopped him making it difficult for both of us. Occasionally he groans, but it is a much less harrowing sound than his agonized screams.

I cut down the seams of his buckled boots, careful not to trap any of his skin in the blades of the scissors. They come off mostly cleanly, and there is fortunately no sign of burns. There is, however, a huge stab wound on the side of one of his feet. His left foot is completely covered in scarlet, dried blood.

I shuffle down to his feet, pulling the last jug of water down with me, as well as the half-stripped cloths, and inspect the wound by gently pulling it apart with my finger and thumb. He seethes and his leg jerks, but once I let go, he settles again.

I pour water over his feet and wipe the matted blood away with the cloths, adding to the small pile of bloodied fabric. The wound is not terribly deep. I flex his foot up towards his knee, ignoring his cries of pain, and see the tendon stretch across his arch: at least they have not severed that. I would not be sure if he could walk again.

My mind jumps too far ahead: what if he _cannot_ recover? What if he is unable to walk, or use his hands properly?

I bind his foot in dry bandages, tying them firmly to stem the flow of blood. There is already a small red stain on them the size of a button. The dressings on his feet and hands will probably need to be changed hourly. Since his face was down flat in the sand, he has avoided burning there, although some of his neck is burnt as well. There is moderate bruising all over, as if he has been beaten. His nose, probably broken, is swollen and bloody.

I wipe the matted blood from his face gently. He looks better now that he is not covered in sand and gore: more dramatic injuries are often greatly exacerbated by appearances, leading to panic from the victim and anyone nearby. It occurs to me that he might not know how bad, or well, things look.

"Link?" I ask. "Are you still with me?"

"Yes," he croaks. His eyes flicker open, and he turns his head towards me. His pupils are less dilated now that he has had some pain relief.

"You have been burnt on your chest and neck, but worst of all on your arms and hands," I admit. "And you have been stabbed in the foot, and I think your nose may be broken, I can't really tell."

He nods. "Yiga," he says in a great rush, trying to reach up to me without moving his ruined hands. He gives up and his arms lower shakily. "I didn't make it. I didn't escape. They caught me, they beat me, threw firework powder on me, tied me to that pole. You were right, Princess. You were right."

I am horrified, most of all by that last remark: although he mustn't mean it unkindly.

"Don't say that," I cry, my voice breaking. "Don't say that."

"No," he whispers, trying to raise his hand, the pain stopping him. "You were right. I should never have left you."

The tears I have held back for so long finally come rushing forth. I lean carefully over his chest and start to meekly cry, my hair across his face.

" _No!_ "

I hear a familiar cry behind me, and see Sidon rushing up the stairs. He looks a mess as well, although it is mostly sand and a few small cuts up and down his arms. He races over and kneels to the ground as I raise myself back to a sitting position. Link has his eyes closed.

"He's gone, isn't he?" Sidon whispers to me, in the smallest, most scared voice I have heard. It is frightening to hear it coming from someone like him.

"No," I quickly assure him. "He is badly burnt, but he is alive."

Link's eyelids open and he looks ahead. Seeing Sidon, he breaks into what could almost be a smile.

"Sidon!" he says loudly, surprising both of us. "We did it, my brother. The Yiga are dead."

"Yes," admits Sidon uneasily, "although not without great sacrifice."

"How many?" I mouth, over Link's head.

"At least thirty-five dead or missing," Sidon mutters, "and a good many injured. They are being treated downstairs."

"What about you?" I reach over and splash him with the last jug of water before he can protest. Sand washes from him and he gasps.

"Oh, that's refreshing," he sighs. I see that some of his scales look cloudy, and are peeling. "You look like you've been sunburnt," I cry, running my hand across his chest. "That's dangerous! Sunstroke could be fatal for you."

He takes my hand and gently brushes it away. "Don't worry about me," he demurs. "I am completely fine. It's Link here you should be worried about."

"You need to get into water," I warn him. The sun is beginning to get fiercer as it sets, and I can still feel it beating down on my back.

"I will," he says. "But first, I think you owe me an explanation, your Highness."

I swallow, and pretend I don't know what he is talking about. I check the dressing on Link's foot again: the patch of blood doesn't seem to have got much bigger, thankfully. I look over his face. He is blinking, slowly. I wonder if he is listening to us. I wonder if he woke up in the night and noticed his glider was missing, but why would he have checked before I replaced it, after making my copy? My guilty conscience leads me on strange trains of thought.

"I came to help," I say coolly, trying to make my statement final.

"You might have lost your life," he says, not rudely or angrily, but with a tremor of fear in his voice.

"Well, several Gerudo women have. There are sacrifices. And Link nearly lost his."

"That was always a possibility," Sidon replies gently.

"Why do people keep saying that to me," I retort, my mouth running ahead without thought, "and expecting me to accept it as destiny?" I wipe my brow with the back of my hand. "I am not the kind of Princess to sit in a castle on her throne while her friends and loved ones go off and die. Or I won't be: not any longer."

An indignant tear runs down the side of my face, and I swipe it away.

"I know I should not be pleased that you joined the battle," begins Sidon, "but I am glad you did. Your quick thinking has certainly saved a life today."

"He is stable now," I say, looking down over Link: he looks to be asleep, or passed out again. "I will stay with him until he has recovered a little more, but I don't know how long a full recovery could take."

"I understand," he says. I expect him to leave, to get himself into water like I told him, but he doesn't. It would appear he has something else to say.

"Princess Zelda," he says, taking my hands in his as he kneels beside me. "Part of me knows that this is perhaps not the right time, but I must ask something of you."

He takes a breath, gripping my hands keenly, and continues. "I know that we have not known each other for a long time, but I hope that you see me as I do: a close friend."

"Of course, I do," I smile honestly. Link stirs gently beside me, but his eyes remain closed. "I could not have achieved even half of what I have achieved without your help and support."

"I want to see you elevate all of Hyrule to its rightful place," he says, freeing one of my hands as he rifles in his pack. "And I want to help you, to stand beside you, and to offer you my undying support and loyalty."

He produces something discreetly, tucked into his hand.

"I know that this is somewhat of a tradition for your people," he says. I can hear Link's breath quickening. I quickly glance over at him: his eyes are sealed shut.

When I look back, Prince Sidon holds a ring between his fingers: silver, sapphire, a large opal in the centre. _What is he-_

"Princess Zelda," he booms. "I would like to ask you for your hand in marriage."

His words echo around the room. I can hear nothing now but Link's breathing, and my own.

"I am enchanted by you," Sidon continues passionately: "your kindness, your concern for your people as well as my own, your ambition. Your wisdom and knowledge, but also your humility. I wish to unite our kingdoms like never before, and I feel that I can do that as your husband." He bows his head. "If you would accept me."

My mouth hangs open. His words, although far too flattering, I can tell are sincere, and I know that he is right: an alliance between the Zora and the Hylians would prove to be sensible, and most useful, and we could work together to achieve everything so much faster than I could manage on my own.

But my heart is in a state of panic. I know deep inside that although I think of him very fondly, I do not properly return his love. It would be wrong of me to accept if this is the case.

But then, what is my alternative?

I am in love with another, who does not seem to return my love. He certainly won't now, not after my rough treatment, and last night when we had a chance to go as far as our passion would take us, he gently but firmly turned me down once again. The pain comes out now, like an old wound.

I could marry a dear friend, one whom I do love somewhat and could love as a husband and an equal, or I could spend my life chasing the man I truly desire, getting rebuffed each and every time, like a fool.

"Yes, I'll marry you," I decide, looking into his eyes. "Sidon."

He whoops with nervous laughter, and with trembling fingers, slides the ring onto my finger. It is a perfect fit – how did he manage this?

He holds my face in a large, cool hand, and I know what will come next. His hand caresses my cheek, and lifts my chin, and our lips meet. It is a pleasant kiss, and his lips are warm and gentle, but I feel nothing of what I have done before: my heart stays still, like a petrified animal.

"I could not be happier than you have made me today," Sidon says, as we break out of our embrace. "I promise, I will be the husband that you deserve."

"And I will try to be the wife you deserve," I say, swearing that these words will be all that I live by: I will never let him down, not after everything he has done for me. This is how I will repay my debt to him, and to the Zora people.

I know I can be happy, I tell myself as he rises, bows to me and excuses himself. "Go and bathe," I scold him, as he exits down the stairs, with a glance back at me, his future bride. He is beaming. I smile back, knowing that my decision is made and now I must be strong, and that I am lucky to have everything that I need: a doting and respectful fiancé, someday to be my husband.

Now, I look down at Link. He lays on his back with his eyes up at the ceiling, half-closed.

"Link," I say, touching his brow. "How are you feeling?"

He does not answer. I wonder if he is half asleep, and how much of the last few minutes he witnessed. I must push away this guilt: he knows, as well as I do, that I have made the right decision. That there was really no other decision.

I peel the wet bandages away and start to gently pat the skin dry, trying not to bruise him. I cover the whole of his chest in one broad piece of cloth, making sure there are no dangerous loose fibres. His hands I unwrap carefully and check them over once again: they will need the most treatment, but if I bandage them up and change the dressings constantly, he will be fine. Tears leak out of the corners of his eyes as I work.

I completely cover his hands, trying to thread through the fingers so that the skin doesn't heal together, and winding over the thumb. By the time I am finished, his hands and upper arms look twice the size. His foot won't need re-dressing until the morning. I won't leave him through the night, to make sure he is not succumbing to shock.

Is he in shock now? I know it is called the silent killer. I look at his face and check his breathing. His eyes follow my face as I move towards him: that's a good sign.

"I need you to rest," I say to him.

"Don't," he suddenly replies, loud and clear, turning his head away from me.

 _Don't what? Perhaps he is delirious._

"More water, please, anyone," I shout loudly in the direction of the stairs. A few moments later, Riju ascends with another few jugs.

"How is he?" she asks, placing the jugs beside me and kneeling down. "He looks a lot cleaner. You have worked a miracle."

I brush away her compliment gently. "He is better, I think. I will need some hearty elixirs, or hearty meals by tomorrow. For now, he just needs rest and hydration."

I turn to him and see his eyes are fixed on the ceiling again.

"Is Prince Sidon in or near water?"

"He is sat in the font downstairs, bathing himself, smiling like a loon," she replies. "He is quite alright now, don't worry. Do you need me to remain?"

"Thank you," I say, shaking my head. "I will stay with him here until he is settled."

Riju stands, and walks back down to the stairs. Before she takes the first one, she turns to me, with her hand on her hip.

"I believe congratulations are in order," she says with a smile. "Aren't they, Princess Zelda?"

* * *

 _A/N: I'm so, so sorry everyone for the uncharacteristically long break between updates. I've had a mad few weeks, and we lost our main computer (and nearly my backups!) No more long breaks like this, and I promise it wasn't for cheap heat or anything. Best wishes, and thank you for all your kind comments._

 _PS: I'm sorry if the content upset anyone; hence the rating change a few chaps ago. There will be more mature content in future chapters._


	35. Link's Anger (Link)

**THIRTY-FIVE**  
 **LINK'S ANGER**

* * *

 _Master Link of Hyrule_

* * *

My memories return in bits.

I remember collapsing in the thick smoke, and then being tied about a post, taunted and beaten all over until I gradually quit consciousness, then being hefted into the air and dragged through a narrow passageway, out into the desert air.

I remember my whole body in flames, and then being buried in the sand, as if I were a corpse.

Then I saw the Princess above me, wrapped in white linen like the figure in my dreams the night before, cradling my head.

I know she treated my searing wounds, as I lay on the stone floor of the town, screaming as she touched my damaged body and pulled my clothes away, taking skin and muscle with them. The guards must have carried me up to Lady Riju's room, where I remember clearly that she laid cool bandages over me, and then talked over me as if I was deaf as well as deformed.

At least I knew that Sidon returned safely from battle. He confirmed our victory over the Yiga, after checking upon me and the Princess.

She came for me. She came into battle to save me, and if she hadn't been close by to put the flames out and carry me away from the battle, I would be dead now. If she hadn't treated my wounds, with the patience and skill of a doctor, I would be certainly dying.

But then she accepted Prince Sidon's proposal, while I lay between them, like a burnt offering.

Part of me cannot believe she accepted. Perhaps they became closer than I thought, while I was away. But then I know that this is the right thing for them both, which is why I gave my silent, false approval when Sidon approached me with the idea those weeks ago. I could hardly say I didn't approve, and then not give a good reason.

I had hoped that telling her I loved her would change everything, as if the words would suddenly make a Prince out of me, and make me a viable choice. But I didn't really say it, did I? I told her my heart went with her. Why, why wasn't I clearer?

But as I suspected, she must only be attracted to me physically: the way her body responded the night before I left for battle means that maybe it was just desire that she has confused for stronger feelings. I am not aware if she has been in love before. Maybe she doesn't realise the difference. I don't mean to patronise her, but for all her knowledge and common sense, I know that love defies all logic: perhaps, in fact, she is in love with Sidon, who has certainly been more of a man towards her than I have acted lately.

Certainly now, any desire for me will be gone. The way I howled like a wounded dog would have put anyone off, not to mention my now scarred and disfigured body.

I look down. I am laid on the bed now, instructed not to move, and every so often someone comes to keep me company. Usually, it is the Princess. She feeds me, as I cannot raise a spoon on my own. She will not let me look at my own hands, although she changes the bandages a few times a day. I can just about move myself about enough to use a chamber pot, which thankfully is the responsibility of the guards, and not any of my Royal friends.

I am disgusted by myself, and I burn with shame. What will become of me? The Princess, soon to be wed to Prince Sidon, will quickly have no need for a Knight who cannot hold a sword, or raise a shield. She will not want my ugliness in her castle.

As the days roll on, I lapse into livid silence. My friends try to get me to speak, but I refuse like a stubborn child. Sidon talks constantly until even _he_ runs out of stories, Riju pleads for conversation on the verge of tears, the Princess asks constant questions that I do not answer. I wish they would just leave me alone, but my pathetic condition requires constant supervision. I consider refusing food, but I find I cannot resist the meals Princess Zelda cooks for me. Despite my petulant attitude, each one makes me feel stronger.

After a few days, I can sit up on my own. My foot is healing slowly, and although I cannot put it squarely on the ground, I can get about with the aid of a crutch tucked in my underarm. I manage a few laps of the bedroom before I am exhausted.

Eventually, I am able to come downstairs, into the throne room. I eat with my friends, but I still will not speak to them, or look them in the eyes. They all praise me wildly as if I am a baby learning simple tasks. As I do not join in the conversation, they talk over me, discussing what will happen next. I know that their plans are put on hold mostly because of me. I am too weak to travel, and too fragile to be moved.

After another week, I can walk much more freely, and I even start to wear a thinner bandage on my foot. My hands are no longer quite as wound up, and I can almost feel the fingers through the lighter dressing.

One evening when it is quiet, I look down at my hands, clad in bandages. Cack-handed, I slip the knot over my thumb and start to unwind.

My bare skin stings in the hot desert air. I move my naked hands about, turning them at the wrists, and I can barely recognise them. I feel a thousand miles away, as if I am watching some other young man inspect his ravaged hands, pale and numb with shock. The palms look like fillets of raw meat, and I am struck with the horror of my ruined livelihood. How am I ever going to draw a bow, curl my hand around the hilt of my sword, climb a rocky surface ever again? It's all I know. All I am is all I know…

"Link!" says a sharp voice behind me. "Why have you taken your bandages off?"

The Princess strides over. She gently takes one of my hands and carefully looks at it. I try to clench the fingers, but it is more difficult than it surely ought to be: I feel no pain, but the muscles seem to have wasted completely away.

"You must keep them bandaged," she says, looking me in the eye. I look away.

"I know it is hard," she tries to tell me, "but you need more recovery."

"I need to be left alone," I mutter.

She looks shocked, as if I have spat right in her face. "S-sorry?"

"I said," I seethe, my voice raising, "I need to be left alone."

She drops the bandages on the bed and runs away, tears in her eyes. A few hours later, when the shock has worn off, I feel terrible at my treatment of her.

Nobody comes to see me for the next few days but Gerudo women, who kindly and efficiently dress my wounds. Some of them were present in the battle, and they thank me for my service, and compliment my bravery. I find these strangers easier to talk to, so I begin to slowly respond. A few of them lost friends in the battle, as the enemy numbers were a little greater than expected, but as warriors, they seem matter-of-fact about it.

I was a fool to remain silent, and impertinent as ever. Talking to the townswomen has made me feel better in myself. Although maybe, after everything that has happened, maybe I did need a break from everyone.

On the day of the third week since the battle, I walk down the stairs to the throne room, on my own. I am greeted by surprised faces all around.

"Link!" starts Sidon, rushing over to help me. I wave him off with a shy, gracious smile, but he still tucks his hand under my arm, and I let him help hold me up. "How are you feeling, my friend? I have truly missed you! You had us all in such a state."

"I am fine," I say. "Better."

"We're so glad to see you moving about," says Riju, taking my arm. She leads me to the throne and tries to insist that I sit, but I simply cannot.

The Princess says nothing. Her eyes are shining. Today, she wears dark blue: I remember she must have torn up her last outfit to patch me back together. I smile faintly at her, but she looks away.

So, she thinks little of me. I cannot blame her, given my appearance, and the ungrateful way I have treated her.

I eat and drink with my friends once again, only this time I am not in silence. I thank Riju for letting me use her bed extensively, and she says she is just glad I am getting better. I joke heartily with Sidon, and I even congratulate him and the Princess. He laughs in gratitude; she looks away again, colour on her cheeks. Sidon calls her his blushing bride.

After dinner, I am exhausted. I haul myself down the stairs, to the room where I slept my first night in Gerudo, and lay myself on the bed.

Someone disturbs my sleep with a knock. It is probably time for my dressings to be changed again. I sit up, and call "come in."

The Princess enters. Yes, she has fresh dressings with her, and what appears to be a little vial of cooling ointment. She says nothing and looks at nothing but my hands as she works by the light of the torches nearby.

"Princess Zelda," I say softly to her. She looks at me for a second, and then continues her kind treatment. "I wish to apologise, and to thank you. You have saved my life several times over."

She just nods. _Is it as frustrating when I pull this silent act, I wonder?_

"Congratulations to you upon your engagement as well," I say, softly.

She suddenly sobs, and lays my hand down, unable to go any further. She covers her face with her other hand and turns it away. I sit up slowly, my hands laid in her lap.

"How can I be glad," she cries through her fingers, "how can I be glad about being married?"

"Prince Sidon will make an excellent husband," I am pained to admit. "He loves you."

"How can I marry him," she sobs, bringing her hand down and meeting my concerned gaze, "when I am still _completely in love with you?_ "

Her words echo around the room, and pass right through me. I can't quite believe what she has said.

"How can you be so... _damned_ blind?" she weeps. "You must know how I feel. I can feel my eyes, giving me away, every time I look at you."

I remember all the long looks passed between us: could she be serious? I just thought that she was watchful, inquisitive, like she always is. And when I kissed her, I thought I had just enchanted her, like one can lead along a girl with a crush. But now she is saying that her love for me might throw her marriage into doubt?

 _Ignore this_ , my head says, while I am sitting up towards her. _You've missed your chance, so_ _ignore the way you feel, and don't give in_ , it repeats, while I tuck my hand into hers as best I can, and draw myself closer on the bed.

She leans in to kiss me while I am thinking about how she is betrothed to someone else, and her hands caress my face as she did all those nights ago.

 _Stop_ , my head cries, while my heart surrenders. Our lips almost touch, but we both manage to stop.

"I would kiss you," I whisper, "you know that I would, were it not for this."

I raise her hand until her engagement band glints at the pair of us like a warning light. She closes her eyes, tears running down both of her cheeks.

"I know," she whispers back.

"It would be the wrong thing to do," I answer.

"I know," she repeats, her voice cracking. She wipes a tear with her fingers. "I know it would be."

My trembling hand reaches out to touch her face. She leans into my embrace, somehow not disgusted with my appearance, and not at all wavered by my actions over the past few days. How did I gain the love of someone so kind, so pure?

"I love you," I whisper, finally. It makes no sense to me why I didn't just tell her, in the shrine at Kakariko, after we kissed, when I could have maybe secured her love.

"I love you too."

She begins to bandage my hands again. "Did you love me before we first kissed," she asks, "or did you not quite know? Did you truly remember me, and everything we had been through together?"

"Yes. The moment I saw you again," I reply, "I knew."

Tears fill her eyes as she laughs gleefully. "Me too."

She leans forward and we embrace. For now, it is all we can do. It is now far too late for either of us to act upon our feelings. Had I been any wiser, things might have been different, but when I remind myself that she will be married to a Prince of the neighbouring kingdom, a man who undoubtedly loves her, possibly even as much as I do.

Once she has finished binding my hands, she stands to leave. She leans close, and places a soft kiss upon my forehead: anyone observing would believe it to be a gesture between friends.

"Sleep well," she instructs. "You need your rest."

"And you as well, your Highness." I throw the sheet over my legs, and push my body towards the wall as she turns to walk away.

"Link?" she asks, just as she approaches the door. I turn back to her, supporting my head on my arm.

"Yes, your Highness?"

"Whatever happens," she whispers across the room, "You will always be my Champion."

She is gone, and the door clicks closed. My heart burns, threatening to melt right through my damaged chest, and a small tear leaves my eye as I begin to fall asleep.

* * *

 _A/N: Deep breath, this will be a big one!_  
 _Firstly, and most importantly, a huge thanks to everyone who views, reads and reviews. Genuinely._  
 _Here's the deal: some of you may or may not know (I can't remember how much I've said in previous notes, I have a terrible memory!) that these more recent chapters were actually written in quick succession, months ago. That basically means that in current terms, I'm writing Chapter 60 or something like that and therefore when I upload these here, they're a few months old: I re-read them to make sure everything still scans right and there are few inconsistencies, but they go up mostly unedited._

 _I'm at a point in the current writing where I'm happy with where the characters are, but as I read these chapters back, I'm not so keen on the order at which they arrive there... if that makes sense?_

 _So basically what I'm saying is that things might slow down for a little bit while I re-write some of the older chapters - because I cranked them out at record speed I think maybe the pacing and quality is a little affected, because I was just so desperate to get Link, Zelda and co. on to their next adventure while accidentally neglecting necessary development._

 _I also want to move the focus onto the 'adventure' side of things after spending a lot of time in Link and Zelda's heads. I think you (readers) and I both know what's going on with them as a pair and I'd like to focus on them as individuals too._

 _I promise I won't leave huge gaps between updates - I plan on, at least, one per week (probably weekends). If any of you are remotely interested, please visit my Author Bio: I'll add my twitter and if you like, you can follow me on there and I'll try and post updates on there rather than using chapters in here (which I don't really like doing)._

 _The next **two chapters** will be **unedited** , and will go up on my normal schedule, just to give me a bit of time to revisit the next few._

 _Huge thanks, and I look forward to everyone's thoughts on later chapters, if you would still like to join me!_

 _\- Neet_


	36. Long-Distance Penpals (Link - Paya)

**THIRTY-SIX  
LONG DISTANCE PENPALS**

* * *

 _Letters exchanged between Lady Paya of the Kakariko Sheikah, and Master Link; a former Knight of Hyrule_

* * *

Master L,

I pray this letter finds you well.

In fact, I pray this letter _finds_ you – if the strange gentleman I paid to deliver this makes it to you, then he is worth the money I paid for the delivery!

Please don't feel you have to tell me where you are. In fact, please don't tell me. If you did, I just know that somehow the information would slip out of my mouth and find its way into the ears of Grandmother, and then eventually to those of Princess Zelda. I know it is wrong to carry around a secret when people desperately seek it, especially when Grandmother seems to have a way of knowing everything, but I promise I will keep yours.

One thing I must ask – why did you leave? The Princess came back to Kakariko, with Prince Sidon and Dorian, and she did not speak to anyone for nearly a week. I was so worried. Grandmother got to see and hear about your injuries, and then finally after a while I managed to gather the courage to ask Dorian exactly what happened. I hope you don't mind, but I was concerned for you.

(As an aside, if you are worried about your hands, you should bathe them in clear running water once or twice a day, and then wrap them in Mighty Banana leaves. Crush the leaves first with your foot so that the juices leak out, and don't leave the poultice on overnight. That is, if you want to. I don't want to tell you how to manage your own recovery. I'm sure you know what is best for yourself.)

You don't have to reply to me, but if you wish, please hand something to the peculiar mailman. He often visits the stables around here in rotation, and he will deliver your correspondence to me in secret so that we will not be intercepted. But here I go, just assuming you want to write back!

My apologies,

Papaya

* * *

Lady Papaya,

Thank you for writing to me. I must say, I was completely surprised by the strange mailman. The first time he appeared, running at me with that wild expression (does he always look like that?), I took off – I assumed he was trying to rob me!

I'm sorry you had to pay him to deliver to me. Hopefully he is an honest man and hasn't stolen the Rupees I have enclosed for you, as repayment.

Thank you so much for your tip about the banana leaves. I think it is helping. I'm not sure if you already knew this, but the burns were worst of all on my hands, and I was worried I would never lift my sword again. Don't worry, I have been making an honest, if slow living, as a stable hand. I go directly from one stable to the other, as the work dries up. At least it means I will never miss the post!

I hope that the Princess and Prince are well. And of course, your Grandmother and the villagers.

Best wishes,

L (You don't need to call me 'Master'.)

* * *

Mast- _Link,_

I was so excited to hear from you, even after waiting for such a long time. I don't wish to sound rude, but I was worried you could not hold a quill pen. The thought didn't even occur to me until I'd sent a letter to you!

The Princess and Prince left town, a couple of weeks ago. She was mostly back to her own self again, but she refused to speak about what happened in Gerudo, instead behaving as if she had never seen the desert. I heard a rumour that she got involved in the battle – and then I heard some harsh words exchanged between her and Grandmother a few days before she left. I assume she was safe and sensible, otherwise she would not have returned. I love Grandmother and I know she is very wise, but I do often wonder if her commenting upon everything is necessary.

Prince Sidon is well also. I don't really know how to ask you this, but did you know that they were engaged? I'm sorry if you didn't already know, but since they got engaged in Gerudo I wondered if you might have been there at the time. I am excited about a Royal wedding! I don't think even Grandmother has ever attended one of those!

I'm glad you are working, but please make sure you take care of yourself. Don't go out into the wild until you can properly lift a sword – I know that you are strong, the strongest man I have ever known (even stronger than Dorian, I think!) but I am worried that you will overexert yourself. Grandmother says you have a 'knack' for doing that - please Link, don't use your 'knack' until you can safely lift it!

Yours,

Paya (just Paya is fine)

* * *

Paya,

Yes, I know about the Royal engagement.

Thank you for the letter, and the advice. I hope you and your Grandmother are well.

I am fine, thank you for your concern. Currently working gathering wood which is helping strengthen my arms. I won't be leaving the safety of the stables until I am at full strength.

Link

* * *

Dear Link,

I think I have realised why your last letter was so short.

I am so sorry to have upset you, with my mindless gossip, and then my presumptuousness. I have no right to lecture you when I am a mere child myself – I have never even seen the world outside of my little village. Grandmother means well, but when all the other children my age were picked up by the Yiga or worse, well, she meant to protect me…

This is why I am so grateful to you, and Prince Sidon and the Gerudo of course, and of course Princess Zelda too, for eradicating the threat of the Yiga. I can now sleep knowing that Dorian's lovely daughters, although they have lost their mother, are no longer threatened by our own people, who were turned over to their dark influences. Grandmother tells me there are young Sheikah like me somewhere, but she will not say any more, and she gets very upset when I ask, so I just don't any more.

One day I might find more people like myself, but – and I hope you'll forgive me for saying so – although I sometimes fumble my words, or even the things in my hands, I never felt as comfortable as when I was with Princess Zelda, and Prince Sidon, and mostly you.

I hope you can forgive me. I won't bother you any more with my silly letters.

Paya

* * *

Paya,

I've tried about fifty times to write this letter, which might go some way to explaining the huge long wait for my reply. I swear, it wasn't deliberate, and I wasn't angry with you. I actually wanted to come and visit, but I was worried that someone might see me, or that I might accidentally cause alarm. I'm much better, healing nicely, but not quite as stealthy as I was.

The one thing I wanted to say was: I'm sorry. My last letter was curt, and rude. I wrote it in a fit of pique and threw it at the poor mailman, and no sooner had he crossed the horizon did I realise my mistake.

The reason for my frustration wasn't your charming letter at all. I have looked forward to reading them, to the point where it is now me chasing the poor mailman whenever I see him! I can see his face twist every time he spots me, I think I must be in the poor man's nightmares.

You promised you would keep my secret. Forgive me, but I think I am about to burden you with another one. Please may I ask that you treat this one as seriously as I know you treat the first secret – perhaps even safer.

I know about the Royal engagement, because I was right there when it happened. I was laying on the floor of Lady Riju's bedroom, like a burnt piece of meat, when Prince Sidon proposed and the Princess accepted. Also, I knew he was going to do it. When he and I were sleeping in the Inn together, he told me he was going to ask her. He didn't really so much as ask my advice – he just told me it was happening, and I felt I had to agree it was a good idea. Prince Sidon is a very confident and persuasive Zora, _and_ he is a Prince. I think he is a good match for the Princess.

I hope you see what I am getting at. It is somehow as difficult to write it as it is to say it out loud, but I believe I knew it somehow from the moment I awoke to her voice in the Resurrection Shrine: I am in love with Princess Zelda.

It feels such a relief to get it out.

(But is there any chance you could burn this letter after you read it?)

I'm sorry that I have wasted half of my parchment on my troubles. I cannot imagine what it must feel like to know you are the only one like you in your village. I cannot say when, or really explain why I feel this, but I feel that the time will come when you are no longer alone. It makes me so happy to hear that you think of the Princess and I as your equals. I know I am certainly no better than you – in fact, I was always impressed by your humility and charmed by your attitude.

Thank you again, so much, for taking the time to write to me. When I first left, I felt like nobody would notice that I was gone – stupid of me really, but I didn't realise I mattered so much to you. It gives me the incentive to push on with my recovery. I hope I haven't upset you too much, but I'll understand if you don't want to write back.

Hope that you are all keeping well,

Link

* * *

Dear Link,

I'm so glad to hear from you again. I could never, never stay angry with you!

I promise I'll keep your secret. I'm glad you finally realise how you feel, but I have to confess… I am a little disappointed in you, Link.

I can't help but feel a little bit like you ran away.

So, you have a love, and that love is not returned. That doesn't mean you take yourself away from them! Imagine if the Princess had done what you did. Wouldn't you be terribly worried - worried sick, in fact?

You said Prince Sidon is right for the Princess. You may well be correct – you certainly know them both better than I do. I personally don't see it, but that is all I will say on the matter, as my knowledge is limited. But that doesn't mean she still doesn't want you in her life. Do you not remember how close you two were before the Calamity struck? You were her friend, her protector, and her travelling companion. Imagine if one day your beautiful horse, your Khalil, suddenly bolted from you while you were brushing his coat – wouldn't you be devastated?

I think I have been honest enough – also I am horribly aware that I have just compared you to a horse. As handsome as Khalil is, you are - _not a horse_.

I know that part of your reason for leaving was to get better, and to make yourself whole again. But if I were you, and this is just a suggestion, I would try my hardest to return to the Princess once you are well enough. Not only will she probably forgive you, but she needs her Champion – I don't suppose you've seen the posters around the stables at all, have you?

One more thing, and this is optional: if you decide to return to Hyrule Castle town (there is a ceremonial ground-breaking in a few months' time, you should see what it has become), please… would you care to pay me a visit first? I would really, really appreciate it. You don't have to, if you don't think you can. Please let me know if you do are can, and I will arrange somewhere safe to meet.

Best wishes to you,

Paya

(Please don't mind the wet splodges, I was feeling rather upset. Upset for you of course.)

* * *

Paya,

Sorry for the delay. I don't want to put anything down in another letter, so can we meet?

I'll come to you – the place where the Silent Princesses grow in pairs, in seven days, at nightfall.

See you then.

Link

* * *

 _Fun fact: yes, it's the postman from_ Twilight Princess _. I love him. You love him. Link? Not so much._


	37. Pen, To Page, To Palm (Paya)

**THIRTY-SEVEN**

 **PEN, TO PAGE, TO PALM**

* * *

 _Paya, of the Sheikah Tribe_

* * *

 _I know my body, and I know my mind. I strengthen my mind, and my body will follow. I obey my thoughts, and my body falls in line._

The grass is cool under me, and the only sounds I can hear are the rustlings of the other creatures up early, and birds waiting patiently for dawn in the trees.

I should be listening to nothing. That is the key to a good meditation: hearing but not listening, sensing but not feeling, thinking but not…observing? No, wait: observing but not thinking! Now I can feel my brow furrow, and I try to smooth my expression back to neutral. Why is it so easy to get distracted while there is supposedly nothing around to distract me?

I remain aware of my own body, and of the tranquillity… and now acutely aware that I need to use the toilet.

I sigh through my nose. I will stay sitting here for a bit, as it's such a nice morning, but my will to meditate is long gone. I wonder if Grandmother ever had this problem. She must have done, although she'd never readily admit it.

I don't even hear the intrusion, I sense it, just as I have given up. The quiet morning atmosphere suddenly changes, and a presence other than birds and beasts is here, close to me. Mother and Grandmother always said that my sense of perception is quite keen, but it runs about like a chased deer: I can tell when something has changed, but the feeling is so overwhelming that I lose myself in it, and cannot manage to see anything clearer than a hazard in the future. The worst episode came a few years ago when I fainted dead away for seemingly no reason: but how could I tell Grandmother that I felt a knife move across my throat when I was simply carrying a tea tray downstairs to dinner?

 _Focus_ , I tell myself, and I can suddenly feel that clarity that Grandmother tries to urge me into, even though I didn't intend to reach it. The presence moves closer, even though I cannot hear the light footsteps in the grass. My restless muscles become like steel girders of a great building, no longer buzzing with anticipation but steady and unwavering. When I can stand it no longer, I rise swiftly from my kneeling pose, turn around, and firmly grasp the outstretched hand of the young man, just as he is about to tap me gently upon the shoulder.

 _Aha!_ I almost cry in triumph, but instead I break into a beaming smile.

"Paya," Link breathes, relaxing himself. "Oh, you startled me."

"You would have startled me," I tease, "had you tapped me on the shoulder like that, without announcing yourself."

"I thought you were meditating," he says, keeping hold of my hand, but lowering it. He grips it tightly, I notice.

"I was. Or rather, I was trying to."

He smells of the wilderness. I can feel leather under my palm, and I lift his hand to inspect it: he lets me, but looks away as if he is ashamed to see my reaction as I slide the worn leather glove off. Underneath, there is a tighter gauntlet, covering his palm. Even in pale moonlight, I can see ghost-like scar tissue like layers of rice paper over muscles that he has clearly built back up from nothing. A few red pock-marks, but he has taken great care.

"The gauntlets and gloves are a very wise idea," I say, trying not to sound too pushy.

"I chopped wood," he explains, still looking at the trees. I see him swallow a lump in his throat. "I did a few months of labour at the stables, and then as soon as I could walk and lift an axe, I chopped logs. Then I felled trees and pulled them back to the stables."

He is taller, I suddenly notice. That was why I noticed him swallowing: I am now at throat-level with him. How very strange.

"You look stronger," I tell him, trying to keep any trace of admiration out of my voice. The last thing he needs to think is that I am a silly girl, still fawning over him!

"Thank you. I do feel it," he says, finally looking at me. There are scratches and marks all about his face and neck, no doubt souvenirs from his life of manual labour. "I know you don't really approve of my dramatic exit, and you're right, but I needed to know what it meant to start over again."

I just nod at him: I don't know what else to do. I'm certainly in no position to scold him again. His eyes are bright, but there is something in his expression that tells me he might have been kind to his body but not necessarily to his heart.

"Your letters kept me going," he says, as I re-tie his gauntlet and hand him his glove. They are simple woodcutter's gloves that he appears to have softened, shrunk down and cut most of the fingers away: he could still draw a bow, or do something as fine as shred a needle or gut a fish, but without compromising his damaged skin.

"I'm just glad you received them. I'm sorry there weren't many," I explain, praying for the blush on my cheeks to clear up as quickly as it appeared. "Things have been lively here in the village, would you believe."

"How is everyone?" Link asks.

"Quite well," I lie. "Business as usual."

But as I look away towards the hills, I can feel my eyes filling up, and my lips starting to move of their own accord until my mouth is like a drawn bow.

"Paya? Is everything alright?" Link takes both of my hands and squeezes them gently. "What's going on?"

I take a few breaths and compose myself while he waits patiently. "It is a time of great change," I say steadily, echoing Grandmother's own words, as she becomes gradually more like a statue of her own self, a ghost standing in her own clothing.

"Will you stay?" I find myself asking. "I'll sneak you into the village for tonight. Nobody will tell anyone where you are, I swear it. Not even Grandmother. I think she would find your presence most reassuring."

"Of course," he answers, after his bright pupils dance back and forth a few times: no doubt he is quickly recalculating his own plans, or is maybe fearful that he will be reported to the Princess.

"You have come directly from the stables?" I ask quickly. "Did you happen to see…"

"Yes, I-" he begins, unsure what next to say. "I see that the Princess has been hard at work."

"She needs villagers," I press on. "More importantly, she needs a Castle Town Guard, now that her bodyguard has left her." It is not scolding, I tell myself, more of a gentle reminder that he cannot shirk his responsibilities forever. To my surprise, he laughs politely into his hand.

"Come on. I'm not a soldier any more," he says, with half a smile. "I'm a menial labourer."

"Can I ask how you made a living?" I ask.

He looks at me with a puzzled expression. "Like I said, I towed logs for the stables."

"And...?" I urge, making an overexaggerated gesture of looking down at his sword. "That's a weapon that doesn't look like it got an awful lot of rest. And you look well fed and equipped for a man on a menial labour wage, if you don't mind me saying."

He has new clothes: a longer tunic in a shade of dark blue, which would have been too long on the Link I last saw leaving for Gerudo, and a quiver full of arrows which someone recovering from hand injuries could not have made themselves. He lets go of me and gently unsheathes the sword, resting it across both hands: it seems to glow ethereally in the moonlight.

"The first time I unsheathed the sword," he explains, "I heard a voice. Deku Tree's voice. Sounds strange, doesn't it?"

 _Not really_ , I think, knowing of the sword's origin from my studies, but I remain patiently quiet while he tells his story.

"I went to the forest, and returned the sword to its pedestal… and I was immediately stripped of everything I was carrying, and placed into what I thought was a shrine." He sheathes the sword again. "I faced everything with nothing. Bokoblin gangs, a Talus, those irritating Lizalfos… all to gain back my sword."

"And your strength?" I offer.

He nods. "And my strength. When I got the sword back, it seemed more powerful. Easier to wield. I felt like I could return to some of the things I once knew. When I got back to the stable where Khalil waited for me, there was a group of people loudly debating how to deal with a band of problematic Bokoblins which were terrorising travellers and the stable's patrons. I just strolled up to them and before I knew what I was doing, I offered my help."

I can't help but smile at him, and after a second or two, he smiles back. "I killed them, and then the stable owner paid me more for that little job than he paid me for a month of hauling logs."

"So," I say through my smile, "you know what that means? You're a knight again, _Master_ Link."

Link scoffs, and hangs his head, as I knew he would. I sling my pack around my hip, and as he watches with his lowered eyes, I uncover the gift I had not planned to give him yet. I open the bound book to its first few yellowed pages and read directly from the text:

"After the first foundry of Guards, during times of peace and civility, a Knight not directly serving palatial duty would patrol the nearby countryside and find semi-permanent posts in nearby villages and towns." I look up, and find his head raised as he listens. "Those who did not mind an unsheltered life would travel from outpost to outpost, and assist villagers, travellers and other townsfolk in return for meals, safe board, or sometimes a small payment in kind."

I shut the book with a satisfying thump, and balance my hand on my hip. "See? And didn't you do all of that before, when you had nobody to guard?"

"What's that book?" He asks, neatly dodging my statement, and bending to read the spine. I toss it towards him and he catches it in both arms and studies the cover.

"Now that you've recovered your strength," I say coolly, "perhaps after a while, it would be good for you to read this. It's the Charter of Knights, leading right up to just before the Calamity."

"Just before…" His lips mime the rest of the sentence as realisation dawns, and he suddenly flips the book over and rifles through the pages from the back of the book. I begin to fret: maybe I shouldn't have shown him this just yet. Grandmother doesn't even know it is missing from her library, though the way she is at the moment, I could have walked past her carrying the book completely stark naked, and she wouldn't have even spotted the first thing. He finds a page and runs a trembling finger down it, and then lets out a noise halfway through a cry and a gasp that startles us both, and nearly makes him drop the book.

He comes to my side and lifts the book into the moonlight, so I can see where his finger rests, within the last few chapters of a section near the back where there is a small diagram of a family of Knights.

"Arne of Hyrule," he says, as urgently as if it is a secret password or a magic spell. "Captain. _Captain_ Arne of Hyrule."

The book wobbles in his hand. "My Father, Paya. That's my Father: Captain Arne of Hyrule."

I place my arm about his waist, as he looks like he needs help keeping himself up. One of his knees buckles, but he quickly corrects his posture. "And look," he says, lowering his finger to the two boxes below: "Master Arul - look, my brother - and Mas-"

"-Master Link of Hyrule," I finish for him.

With a fluid motion, he shuts the book and clutches it to his chest, before clutching me, too: the book lays between us as I feel my head nestle into the crook of his neck, and hear his ragged breathing. I can hear his heart beating, and smell his natural scent under the scent of pine sap, river water and sweat. Just mere months ago I would have died at the thought of him clinging to me like this. I thought I would never want him to hold me unless he was holding me like a lover does, but now, I feel a strange feeling of accomplishment, satisfaction, sheer _happiness_.

"Thank you," he whispers shakily. "Thank you, Paya."

"Will you stay here a while?" I ask again, and I feel him nod as he exhales warmly into the crown of my head, and squeezes me tighter. The book presses almost painfully against me. "And then you'll go and see the new town, won't you?"

"I promise," he says, and then he lets me go. I feel the absence of him, cold as a bitter night breeze. He wipes his face roughly with his hand, and then tucks the book under the crook of his arm. "Come on. I'll walk you back to the village. Will the inn accept me this early?"

"You'll stay with us," I say in no uncertain terms. His lips part, but as he sees my expression, he wisely forgets his argument.

"Thank you. I'd love to stay."

We begin to walk slowly, side by side, back to my village. The only person that is awake to meet us is Dorian: he cannot hide his relief at the sight of Link, and he holds his emotions in as long as he possibly can. Link stops in front of him and bows low, and to my surprise, Dorian grips his hand in both of his and shakes it vigorously. I head up the stairs to give both men a moment, trying not to listen to their brief conversation, and instead wondering if Grandmother will have even remembered to shut her eyes in her sleep tonight. She no longer takes to bed, just sits there facing the door as always like an extension of her own stool, or like an ornate pillow. I hear Link take the stairs two at a time to catch up with me. He has wisely stowed the book in his pack.

"A quick word, Link," I say, placing my hand upon his arm. "Grandmother is…not what you may remember."

"Oh," mouths Link quietly. "Is she unwell?"

In the absence of words, I sigh through my nose and place my hand on the door, sliding it gently open and expecting the image of my almost comatose Grandmother perched on her stool to speak for itself.

I did not expect to see her the other side of the door, standing on her own two feet as if she had not been sitting in the same spot for the past three months, driving us all to the brink of despair. She is holding a teapot in one hand and a bowl of steaming tea in the other, and she raises the cup towards Link with a faint smile.

"Good morning, Master Link. So nice of you to visit. Tea?"

* * *

 _Thanks all for your support. Rewrites are more necessary and therefore taking longer than expected! I will however keep going, bolstered by all of your dedication!_


	38. Nine Months After the Battle

**THIRTY-EIGHT**  
 **NINE MONTHS AFTER THE BATTLE**

* * *

 _Princess Zelda_

* * *

As I stride through the corridor, I can feel my heart racing.

Finally, after everyone's hard work, I can barely wait for the ground-breaking ceremony to commence. I gather my voluminous robe around me, still struggling to get used to Royal finery once again, but Sidon insists it is proper for today. I suppose he is right this time.

My future husband greets me at the end of the corridor, and the castle doors are flung wide open. I see the construction workers, men and women of all kinds of shapes, sizes, ages and races, and I feel a sense of pride: this is what the spirit of rebuilding Hyrule is all about.

These men and women have worked tirelessly to create not only my new home, the remodelled Hyrule Castle, but also to rebuild the Castle Town. No future Queen or King will ever need a castle the size of the one I grew up in, so once I had sent for and met with the man known as Hudson and his construction firm, I insisted that the most of it be torn down in order to expand the town boundaries further. Lots of the outer portion of the castle was basically rubble, having been devastated in the battle against Calamity Ganon. It only made sense to tear it down and start again.

Nearly eight months of hard work from the construction team meant that the town stretched out to cover twice the size it had before. There were houses ready to be lived in, space for places of business just outside the Castle like there had been in my childhood, and the interior itself had been reduced dramatically in size. After Hudson assured me the foundations were still secure, I had left the lower portions of the Castle much as they were, but the inside was completely changed.

Sidon was unsure at first, but after seeing my plans, he relented. If it will soon be just myself and occasionally him living there, it seemed sensible to downscale. Although admittedly, we haven't even discussed yet what will happen once we are married: whether I would live here permanently, or between here and Zora's Domain, or some other arrangement.

Sometimes I wonder if our wedding will ever go ahead. We have both filled up so much of our time, Sidon with the preparations for his ascent to the throne, and me with my Castle and town renovation, that we have hardly had time for each other. Something between us still feels as if we are getting to know each other, not preparing to spend the rest of our lives together.

Something inside me keeps waiting for it to happen: for the day when I fall truly in love with him. I know it is due to happen sometime soon. After I parted from the man I loved, and he took himself away somewhere to learn how to be a Knight again, I have not heard a single word. My sadness turned to anger, which died down into something close to understanding, and now there is just a quiet longing just to know he is still alive and well. I have given up on asking even Impa or Purah, the only ones who would conceivably know where he is, and even they seem to have no idea.

I know that enough time has passed, so why am I not yet in love with the man I will marry?

He smiles broadly and takes my hand as we walk to the podium, and I clear my throat. All of my people look up at me with expectant expressions.

"Good morning to you all," I say, my voice echoing around the circle of new building. The fountain in the centre trickles away happily as the hubbub quietens. "It brings me great pleasure to dedicate the new Castle Town of Hyrule to each one of you."

"Towns are not built – or even re-built – overnight, and every one of you has worked tirelessly to re-establish the town to beyond how it was before. I live in hope that those without homes, those who are lost and in need of shelter, and those who wish to return here will come and join us, and once more, make our town a place of prosperity and beauty."

"Let it be known to all that Hyrule is risen, once again!"

I finish to generous applause, cheering and whooping. I smile, watching the craftsmen and the construction workers mingle, and hoping that my wishes for the town will come true.

Hudson, the construction manager, approaches with a bow as I step out from behind the podium and into the town centre.

"I cannot thank you enough," I say, as he rises. "You and your men have done a most wonderful job. You were born to construct."

"Not a problem, your Highness." He seems shy but pleased, and he rubs his moustache demurely. His impossibly beautiful wife watches politely, just within earshot. "Everything should be functional; the houses are just waiting for someone to live in 'em. I'll be staying until every lot has an owner, in any case: people might want their houses furnishing, if that's alright with you, your Highness."

"Stay in whichever house you would like, for as long as you would like." I say, touching his arm lightly. He inclines his head. Behind him, I see Pikango standing patiently, waiting until I am free.

"Princess Zelda," he bows to me as we approach. "A most enheartening speech."

"Thank you, Pikango." I am glad to have him here. During the process of rebuilding, he came to visit with a gift: a painting of Mother and Father. He became a guest of Sidon and I, and during that time he revealed himself to know a lot more about the running of a town than I did, to the extent that I made him the town's alderman. However, I know that once the town is full, he will become restless again: he agreed to the position only out of his loyalty to me.

"Thank you, Pikango. Tell me, have we had any interest from nearby?"

Pikango raises his brows. "Indeed. We have seen a few returns from your visits to the stables."

I was glad to have met more of my people on my little tour of the local stables. Everywhere I went, people seemed at least keen to listen to me: I just hope that I have encouraged them to come to the town and help to repopulate it. With the aid of Pikango, I met with a number of craftsmen in need of places to set up workshops, along with a doctor of medicine and a few shopkeepers. Over the next few days, I plan to spend settling everyone into their new shops and abodes.

I thank Pikango and rush back into the Castle, Sidon hot on my heels.

"Bravo," he cries, as I impolitely rush on towards my chambers, not even wishing to stop to converse with him. "An absolutely brilliant speech, Zelda."

I touch the handle of my chamber door and turn back to him. His arms are spread. "And now, we rest, and take breakfast?"

I shake my head, and his expression drops. _Why is he always trying to get me to slow down?_ "I'm going to change out of this," I say, raising and dropping the heavy layers of material, "into something a little more manoeuvrable, and then I'm going to inspect the new buildings with Pikango, and the Innkeeper I think has arrived, and check that the Doctor has all she needs-"

"All right, very well," says Sidon, a touch impatiently. "But-"

"What?" I say, perhaps a little rudely as my hand drops from the door. Every minute I spend convincing him to let me go – and view my _own town_ , for the Goddess' sake, fulfil my _own duties_ – is a minute struck from my busy day.

"Do you really need to change clothing to do so?" He wrings his hands briefly as I try not to exhale heavily through my nose, like a distemperate horse. "I just feel that your people ought to view you once more as a Princess, and I'm not sure that-"

"My attire has nothing to do with being Princess-like," I say darkly, my brows lowering into a frown. I don't understand his obsession with appearances: I know he mingles with his own townsfolk, although he is so greatly admired and revered that a lot of his people give him a wide berth out of politeness. He does not seem to understand that my people are not used to my presence, and I am all too aware of my unique situation: turning up after long suspected of being dead and swanning about with my robe and crown might look as if I am trying to take over. My approach, I feel, is more collaborative.

"Sidon," I continue, trying to make a better go of it. "My people have been ungoverned for a century. They don't know if they need a ruler. Our situations aren't the same: when you ascend your Father's throne, you will be ruling your peers and those who know you. My people do not know me, and the first impression I want to give is of some distant figurehead."

Sidon blinks. "You… find me distant?"

"No!" I cry, balling my hands into fists and throwing them down by my sides. "That's not what I meant. You grew up a Prince, didn't you? None of these people in this town are the same people that remember me as a little Princess, or my Father, or anything about the Castle town. They might have had families here once, but Hylians don't live as long as Zora do."

"I'm sorry. I see now," nods Sidon, with a little relieved smile. He places his hand between my shoulders. "I should let you govern your people as you see fit."

I am calmer now that we have reconciled, but I can't help but wonder how we will ever rule together if our kingdoms are so different. I suppose if we can solve this argument for now, then there is nothing we could not solve in the future, but as he lets me go and do as I will for today, a worry settles in my stomach. Why did we even need to have that argument in the first place? Is he just trying to prove a point?

I brush the many little niggles away, like a swarm of fruit flies, as I undress and change eagerly into my leggings, undershirt and jacket, and I brush out my long hair and plait it quickly and smartly to keep it from getting in the way. My full day's itinerary excites me as much as it did when I was exploring a Shrine, or taking a ride out with Link at my side…

I bite my lip, sit at my mirror, and allow myself my daily indulgence. My mind races off like an unbridled horse. _Oh, Goddesses above, and the damned below!_ Where is Link? What is he doing now? Did he see the vacancies for Castle Guards I posted along all the stables as I travelled, each time hoping I would somehow bump into him there? When is he going to return, and which one of my dear friends is lying to me about knowing his whereabouts? My mind switches, and I suddenly miss Paya. I wrote and invited her to the new town, and she wrote back within a few days promising a visit soon. _Soon_. Exactly how soon is 'soon'? Will Riju ever visit, or reply? How I miss my old life: the one taken away from me, just like the last.

Enough indulgence. I rise, place down my hairbrush, smarten my collar and stride through the palace. I don't see Sidon even on my way through the entrance hall: perhaps he is in his chamber on the other side of the library, doing whatever it is he does while I am out busy with builders or meeting with Pikango. I feel bad, but I know I would be similarly trying to entertain myself if we were in Zora's Domain.

The new buildings are fine – more than fine, in fact. I meet a young family moving into one, a few streets back from the centre of the town. The father shakes my hand vigorously while his wife juggles unpacking with a sleeping baby wound tight to her in a sling, and watches his overzealous gesture with a mix of amusement and disapproval. Apparently, her family came from the original Castle Town, once.

"It is nice to be here," she admits to me quietly, after Pikango tactfully urges her husband to take some of the burden of unloading their cart into their new home. "Rather strange, Highness, but nice. The buildings are very fairly priced, and well-made. That builder man is a strange fellow, but most kind."

Right on cue, Hudson arrives with a pair of Gorons hefting a large dinner table, and I politely leave them to get on. There is an Innkeeper to greet - a huge woman with a permanent look of disapproval, even as she is curtseying 'your Highness' to me and praising the construction of the new town – and a few shops to inspect, as Pikango and I make note of who is settled and where. My main concern is that there is nowhere to source produce: I know that when I was young, there were farmhouses and a ranch nearby, but of course, the great field is now bare.

Pikango places his quill in the corner of his mouth, just as he does with his paintbrushes, and I feel upset that I have diverted him away from his true love of travel and observation. "I will think on it, your Highness," he promises, furrowing his brow.

"I will, too," I promise, hoping to take some of the burden from him. I think, hard. How does Riju manage it? Oh, but she has the market trade. Or Sidon? Perhaps I should ask him, but then, I also fear setting up another little argument somehow.

"More people are approaching from the stables, so I've heard," Pikango says after a small mutual silence. "Perhaps, after all, we will have a Guard. We would be in grave need of one, soon enough, if the population continues to rise."

"Mm," I answer thoughtfully, as the statement opens up yet another question: how will I train a Guard? That was one of the reasons I hoped Paya may visit: I know she has begun her Sheikah training, and although there is no way I would ask her to drop that and come to my rescue, perhaps she would return my hospitality by taking a few basic combat lessons with any willing recruits. As much as I swore I wouldn't, I start to think more like Father: if someone had something he wanted or needed, he would reward them first, and then ask for their favour when they could not possibly refuse. Maybe it is manipulative, or maybe it is simply making use of what you have versus what you may need.

"We will have to see what tomorrow brings," I say to Pikango, somewhat unsatisfactorily. "If we can assemble a Guard, I will have to look at who is more experienced, and work with that."

Pikango frowns, but kindly doesn't say anything. I thank him, and dismiss him for the morning, heading back up to the palace, just in time as dark clouds arrange themselves into a pattern of rain and the square seems to empty. Inside, Sidon is arranging the table with a frown on his face, deep in thought. He drops his expression as he sees me.

"A fruitful morning?" He asks me with a smile. I nod, and take a seat, as he swings a plate of food into my line of sight.

"Well, here's a fruitful plate." He beams and winks, and I can't help but chuckle at his little joke, and feel moved by his efforts: with no kitchen staff, we are sourcing and making our own food. Completely aghast at first, Sidon seems to have at last taken it in his stride, and assembles basic and nourishing meals for us to share if I am out for the morning. He pulls his own chair, sits, and starts on a plate of mostly fish.

From the small windows either side of the main hall, I can see as rain begins to come down. Sidon fills up my goblet with water. I realise that the weather will put paid to any more visits to the town this afternoon. I have plenty of reading to do: only now am I part of the way through my texts on the Ancient Shrines, having somewhat selfishly restored the library first of all, and reassembled my home around it. Most of the books were still in one piece, but I could sadly never find any of the texts my Father hid away from me when he grew frustrated of my interest in reading. Maybe I will uncover them; maybe they are lost forever.

The rain is really coming down now. I have eaten all that I care for, and I am about to stand when the castle door suddenly swings wide open and bangs hard against the wall.

A hooded figure strides into the entrance as the door bounces and swings behind it. Sidon stands, pushing his chair away with his legs, as a small cloaked figure enters the hall. I stand quickly as well. Sidon's dagger is already drawn.

"Forgive the intrusion, your Highnesses."

I recognise her voice immediately, and as Paya removes her cloak and folds it over her arm as she bows, I see immediately that she is tired. She must have travelled non-stop to get here.

" _Paya!_ " I run without thought from around the table, and clutch at our old friend. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit? Please, come and sit, and eat with us."

Paya shakes her head. Her hair is bound away from her face, and she wears delicate silver ear cuffs over the tips of her long ears. I notice that the top of her hair is veiled in black. My heart drops to my feet.

"I regret to bring you the news of the death of my Grandmother."

The wind takes the castle doors, and with that final announcement, slams both of them closed.

* * *

 _I apologise wholeheartedly for the massive gap between updates! Have had a lot on. Rewrites are going well though, thanks to your support. -Neet_


	39. No Loss So Great

THIRTY-NINE

NO LOSS SO GREAT...

 _Princess Zelda_

It has rained constantly since we arrived at the village.

I am glad. It will give me an excuse not to hide my tears. I haven't cried this way since I was a young girl, since Mother died, when I cried only in private.

In a way, I have lost a mother all over again: a woman who loved me, scolded me, shielded me as best she could from the harsh words of my own Father, and encouraged me when everything in my life seemed to be going wrong.

As selfish as I am being, I feel terrible for Paya. For someone who has lost much more than I have, she seems to be holding herself together with grace unlike I have ever seen in her. She greets us as we arrive on horseback, Prince Sidon and I, and expects us all to stay in Impa's house.

"It is what she would want," she insists.

I see very little of her while Impa's body lays in state. The Sheikah funeral rites will be strictly adhered to, at Impa's request: her body will be carried through the village, up to one of the highest hills, where the pyre will be lit with the ceremonial blue flame and her body laid upon it. Once she is truly gone, I am told the blue flame remains, as it always has.

Another loved one, gone from me forever. Sidon cannot comfort me, although he tries dearly. He holds my hands in his as we sit together around Impa's old table. It is a comfort to see Dorian and Cado, and all the townspeople again, despite the circumstances.

Dorian has been put in charge of Impa's estate and her belongings. Most of it will transfer across to Paya of course, but there are a few journals of hers that I am baffled to receive. Dorian presses them into my hands, telling me he is sure I will find something of use within.

I read late into the night, my tears stopped by a tide of new information, and I am still reading early the next morning, digesting the information a lot better than the breakfast I am eating one-handed. A lot of them are pseudoscientific in language, and too heavy for me to do more than skim-read now, but there are one or two personal notes in the first few, some as recent as a few years ago.

 _Master Link has returned to us… I am overjoyed to see him, but his lack of knowledge regarding any of his past disturbs me…_

 _I am not sure what else I can do to help… Master Link seems stronger every time he visits, but I wonder if it will all be enough… Oh Princess, will I ever see you again?_

I have to close the book, my tears are coming so fast that I cannot read, and I am worried I will damage the pages. Despite her outer strength, she struggled with doubt, just as I do.

After a few moments, I open the book again and read a little further. It seems that before she died, Impa had been to visit the shrine at the rear of the village: the same one that Link and I visited.

 _I am trying to find something I am sure the sage hid there, if my ancient texts are to be believed. Perhaps if I were younger, with more ease of movement and better eyesight, I could find it…_

I jump, startling Sidon, who has been sitting quietly beside me.

"Look at this," I say, my finger over the passage I have just read. "I think I need to go to the shrine."

"You could be right," he agrees. "Would you like me to come with you?"

"It's fine," I say, to his surprise. I try to explain. "I think I want to go and see for myself, if that's alright."

"You'll be alright, yes? Take Dorian or Cado with you," he urges, and I pass him off with a nod even though I know I won't be disturbing either of the busy men. I can make my way up to the Shrine on my own, and I go against the spitting rain, clutching the book within my robe and wondering how to even begin to get in there without a Sheikah slate. Should I have perhaps gone to get Paya?

I am so preoccupied with my walk up the hill, and the bottom of my skirts catching damp from the long grass, that I fail to notice what is right in front of me across the little bridge to the shrine. When my eyes adjust, squinting through the rain, and I see who is pressing their Sheikah slate to the Shrine's pedestal, I gasp loudly and the journal lands in the damp grass with a soft thud.

Link turns at my outburst, and when he sees me – in my robe of mourning, hair flying free, face covered in rain and so very _not_ as I had imagined I would look at our reconciliation, he almost drops his slate. He walks a few paces forward, and drops into a bow.

"It's you," I brainlessly say to the top of his bowed head.

He stands. The Link before me is both a different person, and yet still the same: with surprise, I see he is wearing the tunic made in this very village, though it never strained across his shoulders like it does now, and it seems a few inches too short at the bottom. He is cloaked against the wet weather, like me, with gloves and gauntlets upon his hands, and I see the faint line of scar tissue across his throat where the tunic splits at the collar. He looks like he has healed quite well. Maybe he didn't live the life of squalor I worried he had been.

"Good to see you, your Highness," he says, breathily.

I stride across the bridge towards him, and he clutches his slate in both hands as I approach. I wonder what he expects. A kiss? Another slap? I admit to being frighteningly unaware of what my body might do, but I find myself throwing my arms about his broadened shoulders and embracing him, just as he is: an old friend.

After a few seconds have passed, he carefully holds me around the waist with both arms, his slate still in one hand. I pull away and take a closer look at him.

"Are you going inside?" I ask. "Would you let me accompany you?"

"A pleasure," he says, and without looking he places the slate behind him on the pedestal and guides me out of the rain, into the entrance.

We take the lift down to the shrine, and I quickly preoccupy myself: heading straight for the chest on the pedestal, looking for perhaps a secret compartment in the lid, or a false bottom. Link stalks around the lift shaft and down the edges of the stairway.

"Were you led here by Impa, perchance, your Highness?" Link asks after a few minutes. I cannot seem to see anything on or around the chest, and the pedestal under it is solid, as my sore knuckles can attest.

I wave the book in the air. "A note in this journal she left me," I reply, "but no reference notes, and no further clarification I'm afraid."

"Paya sent me here," he admits. "I had asked her if I could do anything. She told me she thought something of her Grandmother's was down here." He pauses, and raises his eyebrows as he admits: "I didn't think to ask what it was."

He crosses over to me, and begins an unnecessary apology: "Forgive me, I didn't hear that you'd arrived in the village-"

I walk up to the altar and check over it, a little squeamish about touching the top where I know a dead body once lay. _Get over yourself!_ I scold. Link comes over after having had no luck where he is, and he places his hands around the top of the altar and strains to lift. It does not budge.

"I have no idea where this thing is," I say, "Or if it even exists. I am sorry, Link, for wasting your time."

I turn to leave, bitterly disappointed with everything, when Link makes a confused noise.

"Er," he admits, holding the Sheikah slate in one hand, "I am not sure we can leave right at this moment, Princess."

The slate has a baffling symbol on it: something in a language I've never seen. Link jogs over to the pedestal and places the slate down to call the lift. The lift does not move.

"Oh," I say, beginning to feel a little claustrophobic. "What can we do?"

"It looks like it still has power," he says, "It just won't do anything else while it does… whatever it thinks it's doing now."

He sits down on the steps, rifling in his pack and producing a small leather canteen.

"Would you care for a drink of water, your Highness?"

I come and sit right beside him, taking an inelegant swig from the pouch. "Thank you," I say, passing it back and wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. I don't care much for manners now. I am simply exhausted from grief.

"Trust Impa to send us both on a fool's errand," I say, tartly.

"Well you're no fool, Princess," Link says kindly. "So really, it's a task more suited to me."

I laugh breathlessly and place my head on his shoulder, affectionately. A few minutes pass, and we hand the canteen between each other, the Sheikah slate propped on the floor between us. The strange emblem still shows on its face.

"Where have you been?" I suddenly ask him, turning my head. "You left so suddenly, I was heartbroken."

He looks mortified. "I- I- went back to Hateno village," he stammers. "I didn't mean to hurt you-"

"It's alright," I said. "Well, it's alright now. When you first left, I cried for a week solid. I thought I might dry up, like a prune."

"Oh, Princess!" Link almost stands, but I hold the back of his tunic and keep him pinned down. He writhes, and then gives in and stays. "Please, how can I make it up to you?"

"Tell me why you left," I demand, "and what you did."

He pauses, looking down at his feet. After a long silence, he speaks again.

"I suppose I left to give us both some time. To give me time to heal, and to give you time with your new husband."

I raise my eyebrows. "Sidon isn't my husband. Not yet, anyway."

"He isn't?" He can't hide: I see surprise and a touch of relief in his eyes. "I am sorry to hear this. Is everything well between you both? Not that it is any of my business."

"We haven't had time to arrange anything," I say, swallowing a bunch of useless words. "And truth be told I don't see any time in the foreseeable future, either."

"May I ask something of you, Princess?"

"Of course." I rudely take the last of his water. I need it: I am feeling dehydrated again.

"Do you love him?"

I return his bold look. He is still the same Link, and nothing will ever change him. I hope that to him, I am still the same Princess.

"You know I cannot." I look away, remembering what happened the last time we were here, alone together.

"You cannot? Does he treat you well?"

"You know _why_ I cannot," I clarify. "Funnily enough, Link, it didnt matter where you went, or how long you were away. Things for me are still the same as they were, back in Gerudo. My heart is still yours." I stiffen a little. "You can run right to the very edge of Hyrule now that you have that information, if you like, but it won't change how I feel."

He takes a long, deep breath in, as if steadying himself.

"I was worried that you… that you might not still feel the same way," Link answers after a while. On the cold stone floor, our hands briefly touch. Two sets of cold fingers almost entwine, and then we think better of it.

"Do you recall what happened when we were last here?" he asks me, as if I could have forgotten.

I smile. "Of course, I do. And then how you rejected me immediately afterwards. I nearly pushed you into the pond."

"I - _rejected?_ " Link stammers again, shuffling uncomfortably. "Princess, I-"

"I know, I know," I soothe him, digging him in the ribs with my elbow. "But I have to ask, was it so difficult for us to just talk to each other, back then? Barely even a year ago? You couldn't have told me what was on your mind, like you are now?"

"I never thought of it like that," Link answers, taking my hand. "I think I assumed I knew what was best for you."

"Everyone usually does," I say dryly, swigging from the canteen again, just to give me something to do with my hands and mouth. A paltry drop of water lands on the tip of my tongue.

"So, what would be best for you now?" Link looks at me directly. "What can I do for you, your Highness? It would delight me to be back in your service."

I let a laugh out inelegantly through my nose at his overtly formal words, and I caress his cheek with my free hand, looking over his face once more, the face I have seen in my thoughts for the past nine months. I run my hand down his neck and touch the delicate skin, and he flinches away.

"P-please," he stammers softly. "It's no good."

"What do you mean by that?" I scoff. "You're not poisonous, Link. Or harmful, or ugly." He flinches at the words. "Yes, you have wounds from your service. Wounds do heal, you know. And they show you are willing to put yourself in danger for the sake of others. Is there anything more noble?"

"I cannot offer you _anything_ ," he whispers, as if confessing a grave sin. "I cannot match Sidon. I am not his equal, nor am I yours."

I sit up, turn, and round on him, trapping him with both of my arms either side of his legs. "Is that what this is all about? What it was always about, because you don't wear a crown, or - or have a nobleman for a father?" I rise to my feet, feeling the need to walk off a bit of my sudden excess energy. "That's what has been holding you back? Because you aren't a Prince?"

"It's not only that," he says to his lap. "I failed you… I failed to help you, to protect you. I nearly died, on more than one occasion, trying to save you. You had to save me…"

I kneel in front of him, but he turns his face away. "I worry I will always fall short," he says to the corner of the shrine.

I touch his shoulder, wondering if there is anything I can say to him that would change his mind.

"If you could only see yourself as I do," I sigh.

"I am afraid I can only offer you my friendship," he says, squeezing my hand tightly. "Whatever we feel for each other, you agreed to be married soon. I won't force you to break your promise," Link says.

I hate him a little for saying this, for being so noble and thoughtful, but he is also right.

An alien chirp alerts us: the slate returns to normal, and the eye of the Sheikah returns to its screen. Link picks it up and gets slowly to his feet.

"Would you like to step outside, Princess?" he asks me.

As the lift ascends, we are back in the misty, cold air of the village. I know we must return, but still, I am infuriated that we did not find Impa's mysterious artefact. I still can't help but feel that the whole exercise was another of Impa's valuable life lessons, like the little sketch of the apple I still habitually fold into whatever I am currently reading. And the fact that the slate failed, and gave us time to talk… I voice my opinion to Link as we stand together on the pedestal.

He laughs. "That would be very like Impa, wouldn't it, Highness?"

Neither of us turn to leave. My fingers reach out and caress the back of his hand: after another nervous flinch, he finally reciprocates, and our hands entwine. I lift one of his slowly, up to my mouth as he watches in wonder and surprise, and I kiss the rough, filmy skin of his knuckles one by one. His breathing becomes laboured. Looking him deeply in the eyes, I lower the one hand once I am done with my journey across it, and I raise the other hand and repeat my line of kisses, slowly.

I raise my hand to his face, and just bring him close, placing our foreheads together, faces down. We are inches from a kiss, but try as we both might, we cannot let our lips meet: one of us might almost give in for a second, but the other pulls away. Finally, the torture is too much for us both and we step back from each other. There is a strange rustle in the bushes nearby, and a flock of birds sweeps up into the rainclouds.

We walk back in silence, and join the congregation for dinner in Impa's house. Sidon overwhelms Link with a greeting that nearly knocks him off his feet: I see his cheeks flush as Sidon draws back from the embrace into a more suitably restrained handshake, and my fiancé insists he be seated next to his returned friend. Dinner is once again provided by the woman who runs the general store next door. This time, I make sure she is invited in to eat with us. She is nervous to begin with, especially when she is sat next to Link, but one look at his table manners and she instantly relaxes.

Link eats exclusively with his hands. I wonder if it is a muscle training exercise, or whether it is a habit from the past few months he cannot yet break. I have to turn away at one point: he bites into a chunk of seared meat and thin blood from the meal pours between his fingers, prompting a horrible memory. He notices, and wipes his hand on a napkin.

Everyone excuses themselves after the meal. Aware that Paya has her hands full, I help to clear the table with the woman from the store, and then I make the beds downstairs. Paya and I will sleep on the second floor, and the two gentlemen either side of the table.

Paya thanks me for everything I have done, to my confusion. _What have I done but come here and grieve?_

"What are your plans for the future?" I ask her bluntly, hoping she will not think me rude. I know that Impa held off on her Sheikah training, and I wonder if she will pursue it now that she is free from restriction.

"I have things I would like to discuss with Auntie Purah," she says, and I realise that Purah will likely be arriving tomorrow. I haven't seen her in a hundred years, and that's not an exaggeration. I am surprised she has outlived her younger sibling. "Although," Paya says, looking up at me from under her eyelashes, "if you are in need of any help at the castle, I hope you will always call on me first."

We embrace. I can't help but feel, under the layers of our hug, that we will always be with one another: bound by unbreakable ties.

"Please be careful, Highness," she says, and I am afraid I don't quite know to what she could be referring. Does she know about my plans, or does she know my secrets?

I hear the men settling downstairs, and I undress down to my undergarments quickly and quietly, with my back to Paya. I lay myself down, falling asleep in the first position I take, and I dream of Link's hands.


	40. That it is Impossible to Carry On

**FORTY**

 **...THAT IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO CARRY ON**

 **Warning: SPOILERS regarding Kass and associated in-game storylines.**

* * *

 _Princess Zelda_

* * *

Once the day of the funeral arrives, there is a complete change in the weather. The clouds, once so thick that we could hardly imagine there was a sky so blue behind them, finally parted the morning Impa's body was to be brought down from the embalming hut.

I have no interest in what happens to a body after death – or rather, a human body. I don't mind handling deceased animals, fish or insects as part of my research, but when Impa's body came down to the pedestal in the centre of the town, I almost felt sick.

I had already had quite a shock this morning, when a small wagon had arrived from Hateno bearing the Sheikah emblem upon its side, and a small child wearing Purah's glasses and clothing had hopped out with the help of her aide Symin, who I recognised despite his advanced age.

She had bowed to me with barely suppressed humour as I gawked like a common idiot.

"Princess Zelda," she squeaked in an infant's voice, "It has been far too long. Master Link didn't think to kindly warn you about my new look, then, did he?"

She scrutinised Link, just as her old - _older? -_ self would have done, who squirmed and stuttered. As she walked past, she slapped the side of his thigh like one would a misbehaving horse, and he almost stumbled over.

I had so much to ask her, but now was really not the time. Not while a solemn Cado and Dorian bore Impa's tiny body into the town centre, and every single head bowed. Torches were lit everywhere, although it was as bright as any summer's day.

My fiancé wore his full regalia: he looked smart and dignified by my side, and his smiles today were only for me, as a show of support. I felt great guilt and pain in my heart whenever our eyes met. Many of his warriors, including General Torfeau, had travelled down for the service, bringing with them the King's blessings.

I couldn't help looking at Link today. He was dressed in another version of the Sheikah clothing I had cut from his injured body in Gerudo. The eye of the Sheikah, emblazoned on the front of the uniform in silver, marked him as not Sheikah by blood, but an accepted member of the tribe: an honour usually only reserved for members of the Royal family, or half-Sheikah children who join their Sheikah parent in the trials once they come of age. His hair was pulled back, with two small silver sticks tucked into the bun at an angle.

Now the sole elder of the tribe, Dorian led the service. His little girls were nowhere to be seen – perhaps it was not really the right place for young children – and he wore full traditional dress today, including a black band around his head that showed how starkly white his hair was.

Dorian gave a brief history of Impa's life; her birth here in Kakariko, her service to me and my family, which was interrupted briefly by everyone present graciously bowing to me while I tried not to look uncomfortable, her marriage to the husband I had never met, and to my sorrow, the birth and death of both him and her only daughter. She had outlived almost everyone she loved.

I looked at Sidon, and at Link. Would any of us suffer the same?

Paya was beautiful, and brave. Like Link, she wore Sheikah battle colours, with her hair pulled up into a tight, high bun: a style Impa wore in her younger days. She smiled serenely with her eyes closed through Dorian's account of her grandmother's life, breathing softly through her nose. Maybe she had been prepared for this day. Who knew she was suddenly so accomplished at handling her emotions? I ought to be taking lessons from her.

After Dorian had finished speaking, there was no applause. Purah came to stand in front of her sister's body, and produced a small scroll of paper. She spoke freely, first of all:

"I would like to thank you all for coming," she said, looking right up at everyone around. No doubt she could only see the people in the front row. "And for all looking so smart, too. I'm sure if my dear sister were still alive, she would compliment you all, while saying to me, 'What, you couldn't have changed clothes before you came?'"

There was a universal, polite chuckle.

"Although my sister and I lived very different lives," she said, looking at us all over her adult-sized spectacles, "followed very different methods, and seemed often to be working at odds with each other, we were described as two halves of the same book."

She glanced wryly over at me. "Although, I like to think I was the attractive front cover."

Another laugh, a little louder this time, led by Sidon. The corners of Link's mouth turn up.

"It is with sadness that we are forced to part today," said Purah, in a small voice, devoid of her usual mirth. "And that the Sheikah tribe has lost an important member. But there is no such thing as a loss so great, that it is impossible to carry on."

My heart gave a sudden pull, as if it had turned to lead, but I thought for a moment. I supposed she was right. Life had to continue, even in the face of great tragedy: the fate of Hyrule and its many tribes that continued to grow in the face of adversity could attest to that. I remembered my fear the first time I had seen the ruins that everything had withered and died under the Calamity, and then my elation upon finding pockets of my people everywhere, as well as the Gerudo, Goron and Zora kingdoms thriving.

"I have some words here from my sister," continued Purah, "because of course, she always had to have the last say." She rolled her eyes among the ensuing laughter, and un-rolled the scroll in front of her.

"Hmm… blah blah blah, sorrowful occasion, blah blah blah, untimely death…"

We all glanced frantically around at each other. Was she being serious, or was this another Purah prank? Nobody seemed to know how to react: Paya, the only one who might have reined her wayward aunt in, still had her eyes closed, with that serene expression.

"No, far too depressing," Purah said, screwing up the scroll and tucking it into her pocket. "Another time, maybe, when we are all in need of a good cry." She wiped her hands down her jacket, and clapped them together.

"Symin," she called to her assistant, "please would you bring out the flame?"

Symin dutifully brought forward a small sack which he held carefully, and bent down to deliver it to Purah. She opened the top of the pouch and pulled out a sealed jar, containing a little bit of kindling from which burned a bright, blue flame.

I had seen this enchanting flame before: I had heard that once lit with a blue flame, a Sheikah torch would never go out, not even if left outside in rain. It must be truth, then: how else was it that she could seal it in a jar, and it did not snuff out?

"It is tradition to light the pyre with the sacred flame," Purah announced, holding the jar up as high as her little arm would manage. I felt people behind me crane in to see. "But I'm not doing it here, unless you all want to get your shins burnt."

She hopped down from the stool she was stood on, and then waved her arm to start the procession.

With Dorian and Cado as bearers of Impa's body, we fell into our lines behind: Paya first, carrying a small banner depicting once again the Sheikah emblem, Link along with the other Sheikah in two lines, and the rest of us in pairs. Sidon reached down to take my hand as I walked beside him.

"Are you alright?" he whispered, the gaps between each couple widening as we weaved up the hill path. "That was a most unusual speech. Very… light-hearted."

"That's Purah for you," I whispered back.

"Was she not…" he struggled, "was she not the _elder_ sister of Impa?"

"I have a feeling she's been experimenting on herself," I explained cautiously, aware that Purah was only a few people in front of us. "She liked to explore ancient Sheikah technology; Impa wasn't as keen."

"The Sheikah are a fascinating people," mused Sidon, squeezing my hand.

We arrived at the top of the hill, where stood the second village shrine, tall and proud and glowing. Impa's body was laid up on the pedestal by Dorian and Cado, who bowed respectfully to her before they descended, and stood with everyone below her.

A drum beat broke the silence out of nowhere. I jumped, and Sidon rubbed my hand with his thumb to soothe me. The beat continued, solemnly, until Dorian's voice rang out over the top of it. He sang out, in a striking baritone that carried all of the way down to the village, riding on the wind, chasing the emotions of all of us. I felt tears begin to fall, my face straining to keep a calm expression, until I felt I had to hide behind my sleeve. Sidon placed his hand upon my shoulder, and I leaned over and wept into his side.

After Dorian had finished, on a note almost impossibly long, Link and the other Sheikah stepped forwards with bows they must have drawn while I was crying into Sidon, and they each produced an arrow that they bent and dipped in the jar held by Purah. After a few moments, each bolt glowed blue. The dozen or so Sheikah, Link included, set off to separate positions atop the hill.

"Lady Impa," boomed Dorian, "we commit your body to the heavens, and pray that your spirit dwells on among your people, and those you have loved."

A rush as each bolt left its bow, followed by soft thuds as the marks hit their target, one by one, turning the village torches and those around the Goddess' altar to brilliant blue. I watched as the final arrow sailed over the heads of the congregation and hit its mark: Impa's body, wrapped in blue cloth, erupted in flame. The flame burnt fiercely as the body caught light, the fire seeming to absorb it, until the heap of flame became quieter and smaller. We all watched as suddenly the flame leapt upwards, taking any trace of what remained of Impa along with it, and we were looking at empty space, as if there had never been anything there. I turned around, following the direction of the arrow, and on one knee at a hilltop vantage point knelt Link, his head bowed.

I turned back, utterly lost: what was I to do with myself now? Tears of despair clouded my vision, until I remembered "there is no loss so great that it is impossible to carry on".

I thought of Mother, and Father, with whom I never had a chance to reconcile, and yet here I still was. I still had a kingdom, despite my enemies' attempts to crush and scatter it. And my hundred years' slumber was proof that whatever losses I could count, life would continue in a thousand other ways, a thousand other directions.

The congregation filed back to the village in thoughtful silence, and no particular order. I saw a lot of people I might have recognised, and even more I had never met.

"Prepare yourself for a lot of interruptions to your grief, my love," Sidon gently reminded me. "You will find yourself wanted by a lot of people who, in the depths of their own emotion, may forget about yours."

"Thank you," I say, surprised at his wisdom, then remembering his prior experience of this sort of thing. Because I was only the rough age of Dorian's eldest daughter, I had been spared the public ceremonies at my Mother's death.

"If you need space at any point, don't be afraid to ask. I will take you away," he promised. "Believe me, it will be the same on our wedding day, albeit under much happier circumstances."

 _Ah, so he finally mentions it after a long silence, the mere day after I said to another man that it would probably never happen. What kind of fool am I?_

The village and the guests congregate en masse, with people weaving in and out, greeting each other like old friends. I am searching the crowds for Link, but I cannot see him anywhere. Paya appears at my side.

"How are you?" I ask, as we embrace again. "The service was rather beautiful."

"Well," she answers, sounding as serene as she looks. "Grandmother is at peace. Please, remind me a little later: I have something of hers for you."

She squeezes my hand with a smile, and walks away. I am confused: didn't Impa just leave me her books, containing enough information for a lifetime?

Sidon was, as he usually is, completely correct: I have no time to stop and think for myself over the next few hours, let alone look for Link, who remains mysteriously absent. I speak with almost everyone among the congregation at length, and I am asked many questions I find it difficult to answer.

"Was it really you and your Champion who vanquished the Calamity?"

"Have you actually been alive those hundred years?"

"What exactly happened at the Battle of the Yiga?"

I wish Link was here. He could field these questions much better than I. My brain is starting to fill in silly answers before my mouth thankfully ignores them: _no, it was my horse, and a group of Bokoblins. No, I just look young for my age. We all played cards with the Yiga, and then went home._

As the sun begins to set, the shops and houses all open their doors and begin to bring out offerings of food. I am too overwrought to eat; while my fiancé eats his body weight in cooked and uncooked fish, which a few villagers are very kind to provide just for him.

As the night draws in, people begin to set little fires and congregate around them, swapping stories and sharing plates of food. I hear a familiar laugh, and I turn to see Link, talking with a huge Rito male with beautiful blue plumage, who is carrying an accordion. Link places his hand on the wing of the Rito and laughs deeply, quietly.

After a while, they notice me watching. Through a series of gestures, Link encourages his beautiful friend that it is fine to come over and meet me. The Rito preens shyly, hiding much of himself behind his handsome instrument.

"Your Highness," Link offers me a bow, which the Rito copies perfectly. "May I introduce my old friend Kass? He is a musician, and once a student of your court poet, Isolte."

"Good evening, Princess," says Kass in a warm, lyrical voice. "But I am afraid Link is being too forward: you will not have known me."

"I am most sorry that I didn't," I admit. "I do, however, remember your teacher."

I had not thought of Isolte in an absolute age! He was a courtier picked and much beloved by my Father, a dark-skinned Sheikah a good eight or nine years my senior, who had arrived at the Castle around the same time as Impa had begun her service. I loved his poetry and song, but one day I recalled being devastated to hear he had left the palace service, after a row with a servant boy…

"I dearly loved Isolte, and his stories. I'm so glad there are more like him." I glanced at the accordion in his feathered arms, its keys glinting in the nearby firelight. "Perhaps, if you wouldn't mind, would you play a little something, just for me?"

Kass's feathers around his scruff stand on end. "I- It would be an honour," he began, "if you are sure?"

He and Link lead me to a quieter part of the village, across the little central bridge where the water below is still as a mirror. Fireflies are beginning to descend, mingling with the blue torch light.

"I happen to know the song of the Ancient Hero, if you would care for it?" Kass says softly, with a glance at Link, who turns a little pink in the face.

"Yes, please."

 _The kingdom of Hyrule is a vast and storied land,_

 _Oft grasped in the palm of a villainous hand._

 _A dark force of destruction, many times undone,_

 _Rises once again - Ganon, the calamitous one._

I closed my eyes and leant my hands on the railing of the bridge, listening to Kass's singing mingling in with the soft trickle of the waters below. After the second verse, his alluring song had gathered quite a crowd, including Sidon, Claree, her barker Lasli, and Dorian along with his children.

Kass cast his eyes down demurely, with a smile on his beak, as everyone around erupted into applause. Link politely excused himself, as I came over to congratulate the Rito.

"That was beautiful, thank you."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, Princess." He shook his head, his feathers ruffling. "Thank you for allowing me to honour my master's memory."

I am dismayed to hear Isolte is no longer alive, yet not surprised.

"Did your master ever return to the Castle, Kass?" I ask.

"I believe he returned to try to make things right," he replied, "although I am afraid he was too late to meet with yourself and apologise, and so he returned to his home in Tabantha," he says, his head bowed. "I know that he regretted his actions until the very end."

I am almost distraught. I had no idea Isolte returned: it must have been when I was busy with my royal duties. My Father never even mentioned it… Kass's beady eyes shine. "I apologise: I did not mean to upset your Highness."

"Play something else," I urge, aware of everyone's eyes upon me, "please."

Kass strikes up his accordion again, as Link slips away through the crowd somewhere. "This is the last song my master wrote. He passed it on to me, shortly before he died. Like his other works, it is based on a true account."

 _An ancient hero, a Calamity appears,_

 _Now resurrected after 10,000 years._

Aha, so this must be a recent song, unlike the recount of the hero from a thousand years ago. Some of the crowd sit, cross-legged, upon patches of grass, as Kass settles into his song.

 _Her appointed Knight gives his life,_

 _Shields her figure, and pays the price._

 _The Princess's love for her fallen Knight awakens her power,_

A _nd within the castle, the Calamity is forced to cower._

 _B_ _ut the Knight survives! In the shrine he sleeps,_

 _Until from his healing dream, he leaps!_

 _For fierce and deadly trials await._

 _To regain his strength, fulfil his fate:_

 _To become a hero once again!_

 _To wrest the Princess from evil's den._

 _T_ _he hero and Princess – hand in hand –_

 _Must bring the light back to this land._

Kass removes his feathers from the keys, and with a quiet squeak, the tell-tale accordion is silenced.

There is a long pause, and then the crowd breaks into cheers and applause. Kass preens again, and looks pleased, but I couldn't be more shocked.

 _How could Isolte have known what had happened?_ He must have been there, as the mortally wounded Link stood between me and the Guardians, and I returned the gesture in my desperate last act, finally awakening the gift of the Goddess after all my failed attempts. All because I had tapped into my emotions: my desperation, my love for Link, and my need to protect him.

I cannot, and will not, look over at Sidon, although it was he that led the applause for the song. Link reappears with a plate of food for himself and Kass, and I try to communicate with my eyes: did he know that Kass would play that beautiful song?

"If it pleases you, Highness," says Kass, bowing before he puts his instrument away to eat, "I should like to compose a song for you, to commemorate our meeting."

"That would be wonderful," I say. I cannot blame Kass for the tangled mess I have got myself into. "You are, of course, welcome in my court any time."

I turn to walk away, and as I pass Dorian by, I hear his daughters protesting.

"But I'm not even tired," whines Koko, stifling a yawn which distorts the end of her sentence.

"Girls," reminds Dorian firmly, "I said you could come to the feast, and then it was bedtime."

"But the feast isn't over, look: people are still eeeeeatiiiing," Koko mewls, gesturing towards Link and Kass and their plates. "Princess Zelda," she spots me, as I almost escape. "You don't want us to go away, do you?"

Cottla wriggles out of her father's grasp, and runs over to Link, tapping his leg until he picks her up, his food almost slipping into the stream. "Birdy," she coos, reaching for Kass, who fondly tickles the end of her nose with his feathered finger. She squeals with delight.

I turn to Koko. "I don't want you to be really, very tired in the morning," I say, kneeling down. "I'm going to go to bed soon, anyway. I think bed sounds like a very sensible idea." I try a fake yawn, squeezing my eyes shut and stretching my mouth with a big sleepy groan.

She folds her arms and pouts. I hear Link make a sudden gasp: Cottla has hold of his hand, and appears to be sucking his finger. His other hand is still carrying his plate, and although he squirms to make her stop, she has him in her determined grasp.

" _Cottla!_ What are you _doing!_ " Dorian rushes to her, and whisks her out of Link's arms. Kass hides a laugh behind his wing feathers, and Cottla squeals unhappily. "I am so sorry, Master Link."

"She's just kissing Link's hand," Koko explains loudly, to the gathered throng of gigglers. And immediately, I know what is coming before Koko says it:

"Like the Princess was doing, by the Shrine."

Every single pair of eyes is on me. I can hear Dorian furiously scolding his daughters through clenched teeth, his face as red as mine, as he drags them away. I hear Cottla crying right up until the door of their house slides closed.

"Well, what a strange misunderstanding," I hear myself say. "Don't children say the oddest things?"

That's what must have set the birds off: the strange noise we heard outside the shrine. We'd dismissed it as nothing - what fools we were! We knew the children often played in the woods at the top of the hill, running up and down the path, playing hide-and-seek in among the trees. Link and I had obviously thought that trees meant cover, and that our tender gesture would be safe. A chicken leg slides from Link's plate and lands with a wet thud on the planks of the bridge.

"Well, I think-" I begin, but I have no end to my sentence, so I conclude with, "I shall go to bed. _Goodnight._ "

* * *

 _Many thanks to all who have read and reviewed, particularly those reviewing every chapter - wow, just...wow! I've been working hard at rewrites, things have slowed a little bit as sadly the rest of my life has got rather in the way. I promise to keep going as long as people are enjoying the story._

 _(Quick note: I apologise if my formatting is all over the place, I am sometimes forced to upload new chapters from the app on my phone which doesn't let me do tricksy things like strikethroughs or page breaks!)_

 _Also I love Kass. He will be popping up again, I promise._


	41. The Sheikah Edict (Purah)

**FORTY-ONE**

 **THE NEW EDICT**

* * *

 _Purah, of the Sheikah Tribe_

* * *

After the annoying sounds of the outdoors, and the sounds of barely stifled grief, and then the unbearable loudness of the feast, this is my least favourite experience of the weekend: the silence of my sister's old room is like a deafening roar.

Symin's shoes click back and forth as he paces, fulfilling the same steps like an ornament in a mechanical clock, including the swivel on his heel after six or seven steps.

It's all a matter of time. Time counts away and it won't go fast enough – I'm drowning in thick, viscous seconds, which stretch out into a still, everlasting week of the same charts and books and chores and meals and thoughts until suddenly it whips up like a maelstrom, grants my wish, and with a cruel irony steals away the life of someone else I love.

"WILL YOU STOP THAT!" I screech, my shout of rage propelling my tiny body into the air. "You are rucking up the carpet!"

"Sorry," cries Symin, guiltily treading down any minuscule groove his foot might have made. I'm not really angry with him, and now I'm angrier with myself for causing a scene, and angrier that now he has stopped walking, I've nothing to watch and distract me.

At least the young ones – _young ones, indeed!_ – will soon be here. I can barely wait to see the Princess. After hearing of their victory, I hoped in vain that she might visit, but I know from Impa that recently she has been busy trying to fill up what I suspect was a hole in her life the shape of a young handsome man. And I'm not talking about that handsome Zora whose arm she moistened with her tears at the funeral.

The door slides, letting fresh air into the room, and I'm delighted. It's Link - oh, he _is_ my favourite. It's improper to have favourites, so Symin tells me, but I don't give a single care – I'll say it to his face, if I happen to fancy it. I'm an old woman behind these chubby cheeks, and that means I can say what I like.

 _Oh, here comes something!_

"Well, well, well," I crow, rolling my tongue around in my mouth like a sweet, as Link bows so low that his head dips lower than mine. He doesn't even rise afterwards, just lifts his head like an obedient pup.

I stroll slowly around him, and I see his shoulders tense as my little feet slip out of his line of sight – what, does he expect me to kick his backside?! He's far too big to be put over my knee, although I do let out a chuckle at the thought. I come back around and I cup my hand around his chin and raise his head. His eyes don't leave mine as I scrutinise him. Hmm.

"I'm sure you've had enough sweet, naive young women of the village complimenting you at the feast," I tease him, "so I'll tell you what they won't: you look like a lumberjack."

Symin snorts, and then quickly rubs his nose, to play it off as a sneeze.

"You couldn't have shaved, at least, for the funeral?" I ask, with a light _tsk_. "You've been here at the village long enough. Men have blades for shaving, don't they, Symin?"

Symin looks away, suddenly very interested in Impa's library. I know I'm pushing my luck a little when I lose his support, but I continue.

"And your hair, Master Link. Very long, indeed, a pretty out-of-date style by how the young men of today seem to look. But then I suppose you didn't really expect-"

"I can't quite hold scissors," Link admits, quite suddenly and with a soreness to his voice. I take a step back, letting his chin go. Maybe I have pushed things too far. After seeing him with that bow yesterday, looking a lot better than he had some months ago, I had forgotten about his injuries.

"I could arrange something for you," I find myself quickly offering, by way of apology. "I'm sure Symin could-"

"I don't think so," Link says, his head turned to Symin as he stands. "But thank you."

He turns back to me, and I find myself looking up further than I remembered: he stands taller, yes; but he is also risen and drawn the way he was immediately after his victory against Ganon, his shoulders no longer pulled into the awkward slump of adolescence. His face and jaw are held still and straight.

"What was it you wanted of me, Lady Purah?"

"You'll have to wait," I snap defensively. He wants to be gone quickly, then? "I'm not talking to all four of you, one at a bloody time. I'm tired. You'll have to wait until the others get here."

I fold my arms and sit down on Impa's cushion. The moment the thing is disturbed, the scent of her ekes from the fabric and surrounds me, calming me. All right, maybe I can't be rude and cheeky with him much longer, but just how else am I supposed to talk to this young man?

The door slides again, and it is my beautiful grand-niece, looking every bit the image of my sister's daughter so much that I have to chant her name in my head to stop me calling her by her mother's.

"Paya," I nod, and she comes over to clasp my hands and bow. I'm a little embarrassed at this show of tenderness in front of an audience, but I ignore all else in the room and think instead how lucky I am to have this lovely girl in front of me once more.

"I'll tell you what I just told Link-" I begin, allowing myself and them both a pause: she stands beside him, and to my surprise, she touches his forearm. He beams broadly and turns, embracing her – his arms wrap about her shoulders and hers about his, and I see his face bow down as she reaches up on the tips of her toes to rest her chin in the crook of his neck, and they both let out a sigh that is so perfectly timed it could have been practiced. I even hear a giggle, or something like it, come from one of them. Symin turns, observes the scene over his spectacles, and then smiles warmly.

 _Don't you look at me, you old fool_ , I will him, but of course he turns just in time to see two drops of liquid sentiment fall from my childish eyes. He spares me a longer look, but keeps his smile. I swipe the drops away before the young ones see.

They part, clasping hands. He says something softly to her, and she mouths something back with a smile, and then he quietly laughs.

I clear my throat loudly, and both drop their hands and turn – Link like a soldier filling in the ranks, and Paya with a grace I don't think I've ever noticed she possessed.

"Right," I say, and I am interrupted by the door once again: the room becomes like a tableau as Symin, Link and Paya bow deeply to the Royal couple. I bow my head. With the morning light flooding in behind them, and Princess Zelda's golden hair shining like Prince Sidon's scales, they do look rather like a fine oil painting or a sculpture.

"Your Highnesses," I say, as Zelda enters and Prince Sidon turns to shut the door. He nods at Symin, and at Link somewhat jerkily, and then takes Paya's hand, folding himself almost in half to give it a gentle kiss. "Thank you for joining me. I hate to ask so much of you all this weekend, but that's funerals for you: nothing but demand after demand when you just want to lock yourself away somewhere."

Everyone looks appreciative, but uncomfortable. Unfortunately, once they've heard what I have to say, they'll be used to that feeling.

"I know some of you a lot better than others," I explain, looking from Zelda to Sidon. Zelda's eyes are brimming. I would love to take her delicate hands, like Paya took mine, but it will have to wait for another time. "If you find anything I say difficult or upsetting, well then, I am afraid that's tough."

Prince Sidon's reaction to my warning is, by far, the funniest. I'm glad they're stood in a row: it means I can read their faces the moment my words hit their ears. Sidon's mouth works wildly as if he's being puppeteered. I catch Link's face quickly enough to see his eyes flick about, Zelda shifts from one foot to another, while obedient Paya doesn't move a muscle. So like my sister.

"I'm sorry that the loss of Impa is, for all of you, one more in an unending list of tragedies." Link's broadened shoulders rise and fall. Each of them take a moment, their faces a sea of bad memories: _my mother. My father. My sister._ _All those children_.

"The reason I didn't read Impa's note fully at the service was to spare each of you the personal heartache, and the gossip-mongering of others," I explain, crashing straight into the next sentence to snap them out of it, and bringing the crumpled page from my pocket.

 _Ah_ , my sister's handwriting. Neat as ever; neat as the letters she sent me from the Castle which became shorter and shorter, and her stitching as clean as the wounds she closed on the Hylian flesh in front of me, straight as the disapproving line of her lips when I shared my new research and hypotheses, until one day I stopped sharing in order to spare her dark looks.

"My sister," I begin, my voice wobbling briefly like a teenager's. I lick my lips. "She loved you all so dearly, and yet she never thought to spare a single one of you from her manipulations."

Princess Zelda quietly gasps, and swallows. I look up, making sure she is alright, and then I continue.

"Some of you may think Impa and I didn't get along. We are, after all, quite different in a lot of ways. Maybe that's true, but I always thought it would be better to be straight with you, and to tell you all what is required of you, than to move you wordlessly into place and watch you play out your orchestrated lives."

Link and Paya exchange a wordless, mortified glance. Symin is madly clearing his throat.

"So maybe you won't like to hear most of this," I tell them, clapping my hands with Impa's script in my hand. I wave it at them all. "For the reasons I have just made clear, I've extrapolated from this: because it was supposed to be spoken in front of a big crowd, it's full of the vague language Impa was fond of."

"Paya," I begin. She looks worried for a moment, but then she nods and her shoulders draw back. After every slow sentence, she nods: "Niece of mine. You are to continue with what is expected of you. Do not rush yourself. Dorian will continue to be your guide. Complete your trials with the pride of our family behind you."

She breathes as I nod in closing, and I see Link's glance over to her and his lips barely move: _all right?_ She blinks slowly in response.

"You are dismissed."

Paya blanks, and then looks around the room. As she moves for the door, Princess Zelda reaches out for her; she mouths something, but Paya bows, and backs herself out of the room. I hear Zelda's quiet " _no, don't go_ " as she quickly turns her back to me. Both men fix me with glares: half-stoic, half-afraid.

In the pause, as Paya leaves, I suddenly realise that my palms itch with sweat, and my heart races. I haven't felt this peaky in a long time. Maybe all that I have to tell them should be as uncomfortable for me as it is for them. I suppose it is only fair.

"Prince Sidon," I continue. The tall, mighty-looking Zora watches me with peaceful curiosity. At least he will be used to strange demands and Royal edicts, and a little more prepared, that he might prepare and steady the Princess in return. "I know you must recall how your dear sister, Lady Mipha, was a Champion, and therefore able to pilot one of the Divine Beasts."

"That is right, Lady Purah," he responds loudly and clearly, to my surprise. The others all seem to have eaten their own tongues. "She lost her life within Ruta, during the battle against Calamity Ganon."

"I am deeply sorry," I say, hoping I sound sincere as I mean it. What a horrid way for siblings to be separated, especially when both were quite so young, as far as Zora are concerned. "But you must know this: as unique as her abilities were, there must always be a Champion."

"Always?" Sidon asks.

"Always," I explain, slowing my tongue so that I can be sure they all hear and understand. "The way my sister and I understand the ancient texts is as follows: the Beasts are eternal. They are vital in fighting the Calamity, each time it emerges and regains strength, and so they are considered the height of our Sheikah technology. They must always remain. Remember how they buried themselves in stone, centuries ago?"

On the other end of the room, Princess Zelda nods through her tears, which have thankfully slowed. I have captured her interest. She smooths her skirts and stands a little taller.

"There were no discovered Champions, so they went into hiding. But the Champions discovered or otherwise were there, they always were, and they always will be." I look over at Link and Zelda. "Unlike our dear Princess, and her Hero over here."

Both shuffle on their feet. "Oh no, don't look guilty: we can't have a thousand-year-old Link and Zelda fighting the refreshed and revived Ganon, can we? It'd be like sending a pair of old soldiers to fight a freshly hibernated bear."

Nobody laughs. "But the Beasts must always be in use. I am afraid that there will always be an opposing force: while Calamity Ganon slumbers, the threat of evil is not asleep. Why, just look at the Yiga."

"The Yiga are dead," speaks Link, folding his arms. I didn't really think he'd appreciate my reminder of the Yiga Clan.

"Yes," I agree, "but do you really think evil lies dead in that canyon, too?"

His arms drop weakly to his sides. He looks away, and I am filled for a brief moment with compassion. Oh, the poor, tired boy!

"You must be prepared still to fight," I say, "whether you think you need to or not. The Beasts must always have pilots: if you lose a Beast, consider yourselves as defenceless as if you lost a limb! They may succumb to the Calamity again if they are left alone for thousands of years. You know as well as I do that your Champions from the last century were not experienced enough with their control of the Beasts: I am afraid that is why they all died when Ganon was able to take control from them."

As gently as I have said it, Zelda, the Princess made of stained glass, completely shatters. She covers her face with her hands and lets out a sob that grips me about the chest and throat like a phantom: my breath stops for a few seconds. Both men reach for her desperately, Sidon reaches her first – or rather, Link steps aside and graciously allows him to.

I suppose I deserve this, I think, as every choke from Zelda and each muffled, soothing word from Sidon echoes around the room, and Link glares at my feet as hard as he can, perhaps hoping they will catch on fire. Symin steps closer to me. He doesn't look my way - after all this time he doesn't really need to. I am doing all I can and I know he knows it.

Zelda composes herself, and as her red face emerges, I take the opportunity to apologise: "I am sorry. The facts are never kind on the ears."

"Prince Sidon, you _must_ find the Zora Champion, and unite them with the Beast. I hear that Ruta has turned for the hills: it cannot be allowed to bury itself again. The bonds between Champion and Beast must never be severed."

The Prince is good enough to turn my way and nod. "I promise, Lady Purah, if it is your will and the word of the Sheikah, it will be done."

He checks on Zelda once more, and she gently waves him away with a weak smile. He kindly and usefully dismisses himself without so much as a glance back. I wonder how quickly he will act, how seriously he will take my advice: I have never had much to do with the Zora, having only briefly known Lady Mipha. I know they are happy to live alongside Hylians and Sheikah in peaceful co-operation. Perhaps with his marriage to Zelda, the kingdoms will co-operate more closely.

"Well," I say, beckoning the remaining couple closer. They exchange a glance, take a breath, and then step forward.

"Why don't you sit." I gesture to the cushions at my feet, and try for a smile, aware once more how strange it is to think of them as young when their bodies are physically older than I am, and yet again to think that for a hundred years they were both essentially placed in suspension.

Neither one of them moves. So that's what I get for trying to be nice! How humiliated I suddenly feel.

"You know what you are already. I will spare you the history lesson. Not only are you both now responsible for your Champions – finding them, training them, helping them – you will have the full support of every Sheikah behind you, along with all of our technology and knowledge."

"Thank you," breathes Zelda.

"Princess," I say to her, turning my backside on the cushion so that I face her. "I have to say, it is a great relief to see you again. A great relief, indeed. I am sorry that your experience with me has been such a nightmare."

She laughs, thank the Goddesses, and it's like the sound of fresh water on a long hike, or church bells in the distance. I can't help but pull a face, and she laughs again. "Funerals are like that, aren't they, and you have to deal with all the crazy relatives you secretly hope you'll never see again, hm?"

She grants my wish: taking both my hands with a smile, she kneels before me as Paya did, and our heads become so close that I can see the ring of light around the crown of her blonde head. She looks just the same as the young girl who we sent off to Ganon, only now she has returned more precious than ever.

When she rises, Link's expression seems to soften. He truly was born to protect her. I wouldn't like to be Prince Sidon – if he ever hurt her, he'd have an angry Hylian hopping around his legs like an angry flea.

"Another vitally important thing," I settle in, ready for the final stretch of my speech. "Your divine powers. Yes, that's correct: _powers_ , plural."

"Hero of time," I say, turning now to Link. One of his eyebrows raises. "Have you heard that before? I suspect, knowing her appetite for reading, that your Princess has."

"Your descendants, Link, have been known occasionally as the heroes of time. Isn't it funny how simply people name things? They could have given you an interesting name, given your abilities, but they give you the most painfully obvious one. It's like calling you the Blond Blur, or something – actually, no, that would have been better…"

Symin clears his throat. Perhaps I am getting too excited, and botching the job of explaining this.

"Have you ever noticed," I say, trying another angle, "that things tend to slow down around you?"

Link's brow becomes a mess of lines, a squiggle drawn by an infant.

"Yes," Zelda answers on his behalf, bright and wide-eyed. "Yes, Link. Yes they do!" She turns to him and touches his arm. "I saw you leap, once - you were fighting a Guardian - and you leapt from a bank and you drew your bow, and I _swear_ I could have only seen you draw once but you let three bolts into it. It was fallen before your feet hit the ground."

"I- but it-" Link stutters and blinks rapidly. "Could it not have been a triple-notched bow, Highness?"

"No!" Zelda cries, her eyes alight. "I swear it, no. And when I nearly drowned in Zorana, there you were in the water beside me, when I was at least thirty feet from the bank."

"I had to get to you," he explained.

"But you couldn't've!" she almost shouts into his face, clasping him by the wrists. "Impossible! I would have sunk fifty feet down by the time you reached me!"

"I don't…" Link answers, but those cogs in his head are clearly spinning.

"Time slows around you," I explain. "There is no other way to explain it, other than the will of the Triforce."

"The Triforce?" Zelda asks, turning to me. "Forgive me: what about the Triforce?"

"Princess, you are imbued with the power of Wisdom, direct from the Goddess most high. Link owns the power of Courage. Where he dares to fight, and succeeds whenever he acts in the name of courage itself, you are the final seal: the wisdom to complete the task, to stand up in the face of brute force and ignorance and put an end to Ganon's rampage."

"I think I see…" she says slowly.

"All must exist," I say, and it's the hardest thing I've ever had to make sense of. "I know it is difficult to understand, but you cannot rule with wisdom, power or courage alone. Each exist among you."

They both look shocked, and disgusted – after all, every Hylian child is taught that power is evil. It is a prejudice born out of the fear of Ganon: he is powerful, but brutish, with no nobility, and to consider that you hold any kind of great might or power is a negative. Hylian children are brought up humble, but perhaps with a little too much prejudice against power. Zelda may not have been old enough to notice, and I wonder how much my sister encouraged her to socialise, to shake off the implication that all royals are haughty and power-driven.

And now she stands among her peers, and somehow I feel that it is Paya, of all people, to whom she has best warmed. According to my niece, the two women often sit together in the evenings, sharing talks or sometimes just quill ink. Paya wrote to Zelda while Link was away, keeping her busy with questions about her studies and information about her own life.

"Wisdom will create ideas, but without an amount of power there would be no audience for them, and without courage, no wise man would ever speak up." Princess Zelda looks down at her hands, considering my words.

I watch Link, watching her: every move he makes toward her carries a degree of hesitation, as if he is torn between doing right and doing wrong. I laughed initially when I heard Impa's tales of her scolding him, ordering him back to the castle when he dutifully followed her on her secret excursions. I can imagine him standing before her, mute with polite defiance. It takes a lot to look a Princess in the face and silently, respectfully say "no".

"Courage will make a man rush to speak or act, but without power they cannot follow through, and without salient thought behind those actions, they are reckless." Link's brow finally un-knits. He seems to appreciate what I'm saying.

"Ganon acts on power, and nothing but. He sees humanity as a weakness, which is why he sheds it to become more beast-like and calamitous. But unbridled power with no thought behind it, fuelled by greed and fear, will come crashing down at the feet of its enemies. Look at the Yiga. All of your efforts combined wiped them out, for now."

"You two are more powerful than you realise." I bring them close with a sweep of my hands, and I grasp Link's hand and place it in the Princess's. They look each other in the eyes, swapping determination with their shared gaze. "You might believe you have lost your powers. It's true that the Champions' abilities left you, Link, when their spirits were laid to rest. They were a gift; your other powers were not so temporary, I reckon. As for you, Highness, I cannot say."

"You must work together, and set everything else aside. Live your lives, but remember what you were born into."

They look back at me.

"Yes, it is going to be hard," I say softly. "It is always going to be, and you're going to think 'why me'. You're welcome to think that, but if I ever hear one of you complaining aloud, I'll put my belt across the backs of your thighs so fast you'll think you sat down on a hornet's nest."

It works. Zelda giggles first, and with a sly look sideways at Link, he smiles.

"I will be here for you," I promise, "but only if it's something important, not so you can complain about your ridiculous teenage problems. That I'm afraid is something we all have to deal with, and I'd rather you spared me, especially as I anticipate my own personal hormonal cocktail."

I lean back and breathe through my nose like a tired horse. "Have either of you any questions?"

Zelda raises her hand, then speaks: "So, would it be best for us to locate our Champions?"

"Yes," I say with a sigh. "And no, I can't help you with that: I'm not going up that bloody mountain or across that desert. You may already have an idea about them. They'll gravitate to you, somehow. And don't waste your time looking for blood relations: they might well pass their abilities down, but we couldn't find anything written that guarantees it. Also, I'm pretty sure at least three of your first Champions never even married."

Both of them cast their eyes elsewhere.

"One more thing, before I let you go." The pair rearrange themselves and their faces, and then stand still and obedient. "Whatever happened between the pair of you that caused you to run off-" I jab a finger at Link, who steps back, "-you can bet your last clean pair of trousers that I don't care what it is, but I hope it's resolved, and that you're working together again. You absolutely must. I don't care if your spouses hate each other, or one of you suddenly becomes deathly allergic to blondes, it's all for Hyrule."

They exchange another glance that seems to go on forever. _What are they doing, losing themselves in each others' eyes, or something?_ Maybe Impa had time to interpret every glance, but I'm running low on tolerance.

"All for Hyrule," I repeat impatiently. "All right?"

"For Hyrule," breathes Link, and he bows unnecessarily before her and takes her hand.

"All for Hyrule," she says, raising his hand and lifting him to his feet, catching his other hand and gripping them tightly in hers. They step closer.

"Go on then: I want to hear you promise each other," I command.

"I swear," whispers Link, as if talking to a lover. A shiver crawls up my back: I'm not sure if I'm caught up in his ridiculous display of tenderness or about to vomit. "Upon my life."

"I swear," whispers Zelda, taking a bold step closer until there is barely a sliver of light between them, "I swear upon my crown."

"I swear it on the Goddesses," whispers Link, and the Princess draws a slow, almost shuddering breath. _Oh Gods, what next?_ I swear on my horse? On my ridiculous hair? On my collection of increasingly stained, smelly tunics?

"Right, we are done," I snap, and the spell between the pair is broken. They drop hands and step back. "If you've no further questions, my dear Princess, you are free to go. And you, Link. Sod off with you."

Link smirks, bows, and leaves rather quickly, leaving the door ajar. I cluck my tongue. The Princess remains for a moment.

"Thank you," she says, to my surprise.

"What on Earth for, my dear?" I ask. "I'm sure that was probably not the highlight of your weekend, and that's quite a statement."

"Thank you for making things clear for me," she goes on. "For all of us. I see now what needs to be done."

"I'll give you everything I possibly can," I promise again, wriggling off the cushion and standing to scrutinise my sister's library. "I think Impa has already given you much of what you need, but don't busy your head too much with reading. I know how you like to prepare, but I'd much rather hear of and see you out in the field."

I turn back to her. "By the way," I continue, "I hope that boy thanks you for the job you did patching him up. Speaking as someone who has already done it once, you worked remarkably well for someone who is not a Doctor."

"Medical journals," she explains, spluttering. "And common sense, I suppose."

"Don't be modest, your Highness." I turn my back, not disrespectfully, but to double-check the spines of all the books again. "You were always Impa's favourite student, even after a hundred and thirty years. Nearly. Oh, she'd hit me for rounding that up."

I can almost feel the Princess blush.

"It is good to see you again, Lady Purah," she says, and I hear the swish of her skirts as she heads for the door. As I turn, we exchange a brief glance, and then she is gone.

As I sigh, I suddenly feel light: so light, in fact, that my weak ankles wobble and I almost lose my balance. Symin bends, and he holds me tightly. I allow it, just this once.

"You did so well," he whispers into my ear, after a few minutes. "A little harsh, as you always are, but well."

"They are adult enough," I defend myself.

"I know."

"Are you feeling all right? You look pale." He sits me up on the cushion. I ignore him and wipe the lenses of my glasses on my shirt.

I only wish _I_ was adult enough, I think. I can cope with talking down to the young ones. I decide that as long as I am doing right by them, I don't care if they find the words of their elder coming out of a child's mouth eerie or strange. But here, I have doomed my partner to almost the same fate as me: to feel wrong in our own bodies, and to know that one day we will be separated forever, by little more than my foolishness.

Impa, you might well have been right about me, but I'll make it up to you, to myself, and the young ones. I won't see the distance that grew between us push them apart.

* * *

 _Many thanks to my readers, and especially to a couple of you who pointed out stuff that needed clarifying:_  
 _ **OnePunchFan8** \- Link doesn't have the Champions' abilities any more, you're quite right - or he'd have used them by now! I decided that when they faded away at the end of the game, they took their abilities with them._  
 _ **Luna12** \- thank you for reviewing each chapter, and yes, Link could have used the slate to escape had he not put honour before sensibility/reason. He wouldn't have wanted to retreat and not be able to assist in the battle; and while Zelda could have ordered him to retreat, they wouldn't have seen eye to eye after that. But, like the plot point above, I didn't make that clear in my writing, something which I'll look carefully at in future, so a huge thank you to both of you! - Neet_


	42. A Fruitful Hunt (Link)

**FORTY-TWO**

 **A FRUITFUL HUNT**

* * *

 _Master Link of Hyrule_

* * *

I'm sure, Impa, that you would have been amused at the antics which took place after your funeral. After all, you always had the advantage of being the wisest of us all. Perhaps you'd have had some advice for me?

Although, I'm worried your advice would have been "don't ever kiss the Princess". Not terribly clever of me, trying to shut the stable gate once the horse has bolted, is it?

And then just now when she looked at me and took my hands, raising me from my penitent bow to stand as her equal, and swore on her crown, and I swore on my life… I feel like we have done something of a great measure, something secret and forbidden but not sordid, something that seals our bond. I am also glad that Purah interrupted us, and broke the spell. I am grateful to Purah. Sometimes her tongue is sharp, but she doesn't ever mean to be cruel, and she cuts through a lot of the vagueness I am accustomed to make sure everyone does as they should. I think about the things she said about her own sister. Perhaps Impa _was_ sometimes manipulative, but I wonder if my own brother might have said some uncomfortable truths about me, if he were ever asked.

I awoke in the morning with a sore head, and a stomach that felt full of hot lava. I think I ate my shame away at the feast: I kept a full plate all evening so that whenever someone came to ask me something, I could gesture apologetically at my full mouth, and walk away without repercussions.

And then, before we were instructed to speak to Purah, Sidon came to me in the village with a request.

"You'll join me in a hunt, Link?" With Sidon, it is never really a request so much as a polite order. "Please. I need to gather provisions to take back to Hyrule, and I would like to speak with you. To spend time with you, after you have been gone so long."

I cannot refuse, even though my aching gut tells me he may not want to go out for purely practical reasons. The fresh morning air highlights how stale I feel. Cooking smells waft across the little village from the store next door to Impa's: where I would normally be tempted, now I feel green at the thought of breakfast.

I agree to Sidon, and he leaves without another word. I greet Dorian as he leaves his post at the end of his shift, to help break the tension between us. It was not his daughters' fault that they saw a secret act of tenderness between the Princess and I, but I can tell he feels responsible. He nods as I bid him good morning.

And now that we have spoken to Purah, there is no more distraction. I head up the hill to the fields where Sidon will be waiting, feeling a little better apart from a heaviness in my stomach that seems to shift when I walk. I am weighted down with a full quiver, my cleaned knives, and a few other hunting necessities: burlap sacks, strings, a bag of cooked Stealth shrooms. Normally a favourite snack, I dread the thought of having to eat one.

Sidon is out in the field, drilling with a long, even spear: he is graceful, and swift. I approach his back and wonder if I should call out, or whether that would alarm him. Twenty or so feet away from him, he stops, and speaks:

"So, here we are."

"Indeed, Highness," I begin.

"Come on, Link," Sidon laughs without mirth, tossing his head and fins. "It is only the pair of us. Why don't you just call me Sidon? I have asked you enough."

"Very well, Sidon," I say, trying not to stumble over my words. "What shall we hunt?"

"Let's see," Sidon says, pushing the spear through the strap around his back and walking over to me. "You know this area better. Dare I say the wooded area to the east would have more wild animals? I would prefer fish, of course, but I must consider Zelda's needs."

It's like a little thorn in my side, or a splinter dangerously lodged near a wound: just enough to cause a mote of discomfort. He _must_ know. He is not stupid.

"You're correct," I say fairly. "Perhaps the woodlands, if meat is what is needed."

I'll let him go ahead: gather his meat, prove his point to me, while I forage quietly for accompaniments which won't suit his diet but will keep their meals varied in taste and nutritious. I don't believe our hunting styles will merge: he will have learnt to fight for show and sport, scaring off other animals with his loud and fearsome approach, and while he would take the whole animal judging by the straps and sacks he has with him, I would draw the entrails there and then. I am so used to taking my food quickly, checking the guts for diseases that might pass from the meat to me, and taking the best cuts before leaving the rest for predators to find instead of finding me. He and I approach the edge of the wilderness.

Nothing is around yet. I can smell the fresh dung of something large, and I point to the ground, then rub my nose, and then gesture to the ground again: w _ild animal nearby, recently_. We crouch down; he is almost inside a bush to disguise his reddened scales, and wait together.

My stomach stirs, unsettled by the smell of the droppings. But I know that also if I want to do what is best for the Princess, I must act now, and break this tension between us.

"May I take the chance to explain," I begin, swallowing hard, "about what was said last night?"

Sidon's brow moves, and he looks a little surprised. Perhaps he expected me to remain silent. "Please do," he whispers, after a pause.

 _Deep breath, Link_. _Meet his gaze_. "I believe the children saw a gesture between myself and Princess Zelda. We were at the shrine, where we failed to find anything belonging to Impa. We were both upset, and so I comforted her."

The Prince's chest rises, and falls. "How did you comfort her?"

"With a kiss on the hand."

This is the last lie I will ever tell Sidon, and I tell myself that it is to spare the Princess's and his feelings. It is much easier for me to take the blame here.

"She did not kiss yours?"

"We held hands together for a moment, but no. I kissed hers. She was too kind to rightfully scold me."

The wind picks up, playing havoc with my shirt, and moving Sidon's fins. He fidgets irritably and crouches further down. He comes in closer, until I can no longer smell the forest, and instead I can smell him. I smell the salt and oil on his scales, and remember riding on his back in the waters of Zorana, when he trusted me a great deal.

"You will tell me the truth from now on, won't you, Link?" he asks after a long pause.

"Yes, Sidon." I cannot lie to him now: I have promised both him, and myself, and the image of the Princess in my heart.

"Good," Sidon says. He looks relieved, and almost back to his normal self. In fact, he smiles at me, and it is as if I never left: I see that look of respect and pride return to his eyes, and I know that what I say next is going to banish it forever.

"I'm in love with her," I say.

The fields roll on behind us, and if it weren't for the look on his face, I could almost think that he didn't quite hear me. He sighs deeply, and places his hand over his eyes, leaving it there for quite some time, and then he rolls it down his face, and rubs the back of his neck. I wonder how I would feel, if someone announced their love for my future wife: although I suppose, when I saw him proposing to Princess Zelda over my injured body in the desert, that would be quite close in terms of experience.

"Why didn't you _say_." Sidon makes a desperate, grasping gesture, and leans his elbow on his knee and his face in his hand. "If you had only spoken to me first…"

He looks around us, as if there would be anyone to hear two young men having a quiet discussion within a bush, and then says directly to me: "I won't give her up."

"And you shouldn't, Highness."

"You don't think she returns your love?"

I burn all over feverishly as I respond with: "I don't think it would matter, if she did. I cannot give her even half of what you can give her."

Sidon considers my words, and nods, not unkindly. "We have plans for both of our Kingdoms."

This is the first I am hearing of these plans, but I will not argue. I know nothing of what the two have discussed, while I was away, and I have no right to know.

"Link, you are my friend," he says to me, his voice wracked with pain. "My brother. If I had seen any indication that you had loved the Princess, I would have certainly thought twice about proposing to her. I could never hurt you, no matter how good I thought my intentions were."

I wish, not for the first or the final time, that I had said something sooner. It doesn't matter how forceful or pushy I thought he was being: I should have spoken up.

"I wouldn't dare banish you from your duty to the Princess," he continues, "and I won't show mistrust to my future wife. But whenever the two of you spend time alone, I will always wonder…"

He stares off into the distance. I suddenly see so much of Mipha in him: I have seen that same look in her eyes long ago, when I believe she was about to release me from my childish promise to her.

"I swear," I say to him, "I swear to you that you need never have anything to worry about. From now on, I will never act inappropriately around the Princess again."

I bow my head to the ground in contrition. My insides churn like a river, but I push my physical discomfort aside.

"Get up, Link, I believe you. Please don't grovel like that."

I rise uneasily, and find a smile on Prince Sidon's face – not his usual smile, but it will have to do for now.

"Will you at least finish your job here? I can't gather what I need on my own." He takes a breath. "And I do want us to remain friends, as we are. You'll do that for me, won't you?"

"Of course," I answer, "Sidon."

He suddenly straightens his back, raises a finger, and points: mere feet in front of us is a boar, snuffling and honking with its snout dragging along the ground. I feel his muscles tense right next to me, and he leaps in a great arc to plunge his spear through the beast's back. It squeals: in the distance to the right, out of the clearing, three deer raise their heads and tense, and quickly find one of my arrows through each of their stretched necks. I would normally spare most, but if the Royal couple need them, I will provide.

I run to my felled kills, and pull the first unsplintered arrow from the nearest doe. She shakes and bucks in the rigors of death and then falls still as her family. With a prayer to the Goddess, I wonder what to do next: I would clean and gut the animal, but would Sidon prefer to do that himself? I cannot send the Prince and Princess off with four corpses draped about their horses. Quickly I slit the doe's stomach, pulling my glove off and pushing the gauntlet back before easing my hand into the wet warmth. I check for gallstones, the size of the liver, and the intestines. Once all seems well I begin to fillet the animal, quickly and quietly, before moving onto the next one.

"Link!" cries Sidon, as I tear a sack open and arrange the cuts of meat into it, slipping herbs in between each cut to help preserve them on their short trip back. He has the boar draped across his shoulders as effortlessly as a throw cushion. "Wow, you are like a butcher. Remind me never to cross you!"

I chuckle, a little uncomfortably. "Did you want the offal?" I point with my knife at the insides, before realising the gesture is a little rude.

"No thank you," he says. "What you have there is fine. Aren't you keeping any for yourself?"

"I will be fine," I assure him, before wondering why I said such a stupid thing. I will now be going back with them, as planned, but empty-handed. There is barely anything in the surrounding Hyrule Field but Bokoblins and skinny pigeons.

"Come on," Sidon says, kneeling so he can lower the beast to the ground, and reaching across to the bloody meat. "Take yourself something, at least. Aren't you coming back with us? I'm afraid you won't be able to eat with us, in the palace."

I bristle: surely, if the Princess wanted me there, I would be. But I must work within his boundaries: maybe I can afford the rent there in the new homes. I hear that the houses are reasonable, and built by Hudson and his crew, who I will almost definitely be able to set up some kind of trade with.

"Thank you, Sidon," I say, and take a few smaller steaks into a small sack. They quickly soak the burlap, and I won't have long before I need to cook them. Perhaps I should do that first, back at the village, if my stomach would just settle down.

"Hmm," says Sidon, wiping his bloody hand onto the grass. "Maybe it's best you do call me 'Your Highness', Link, just in case you get too used to calling me Sidon at the palace? We can't have that: you wouldn't get caught calling the Princess 'Zelda', would you?"

"Of course," I reply, "Your Highness."

"Thank you, Link," he says. "I'll make sure you are always nearby. Perhaps we could sort something out with the Innkeeper for you? That way, you would only be across the town square, ready whenever we might need you."

"Thank you," I say, tying off a sack, and I mean it: it would be useful to be close to the Princess, though I suspect he'd rather have me close for other practical reasons. At least there'll be no gathering wood for Hudson.

"Wonderful," he beams, clapping his bloodless hand on my back. "I am so pleased, Link. So pleased that you have returned to us, and pleased you will be here at our side as we join our Kingdoms."

"It pleases me too," I answer, as I am expected to, and I find a little solace and truth in this: he will let me be near to her, fulfilling the vows we made to each other just this morning, and I will be there the very instant she needs me. At the same time, he will be happy with me in his close sight. Perhaps things can be close to how they were again.

"And I must leave," he says, slinging the boar over his back again. I hand him two sacks, heavy and sagging with meat, and he takes them gratefully, holding them a distance away from himself. "The Princess and I will be leaving reasonably soon. Will you ride alongside us?"

"I will leave later, if you don't mind," I explain. "After I have thanked Paya, and made sure she has all she needs."

"Very good," he nods. "Then we'll see each other, very soon! I'll make sure to set something up, so that you have somewhere to stay when you arrive, yes?"

I bow my thanks, and he finally leaves, effortlessly slinging both sacks and the heavy carcass.

Once he is out of sight, I drop to my hands and knees and heave over the carcasses. I throw up what feels like every meal I have ever eaten since childhood, then collapse to one side, panting with effort.

As I lay beside the filth, I think back to what the Princess said in the shrine. She and Sidon have little in common besides their respective Kingdoms, but admittedly it makes political sense for them to wed.

But can he really give her _everything_ she wants, as he says he can?

I remember a visit to Purah, long ago: a rather embarrassing one, now I look back upon it. I am sure she was not used to being asked about Zora biology, but she told me what she could: that Zora-Hylian offspring would probably have had a Hylian father and a Zora mother, due to certain biological restrictions. I can't help but wonder: could it ever work the other way around?

An uncomfortable image springs to mind, and it is so distressing that roll over and dry-heave again. I have mostly abstained from lustful thoughts since my mistake in Gerudo nearly cost me dearly, but I can't picture the Princess joining with anyone else but me: my jealous ego will not allow it, especially since we were so close that night before the battle to realising our passion. What had stopped us? I'm sure it was my embarrassment at not retaining my innocence for her, and the knowledge that Sidon intended to propose.

Since she easily guessed what might have been going on between Mipha and I, Purah offered me the chance to be a subject in her age-reversal tests. Looking at her now, I am glad she changed her mind: even if Mipha and I had married, what would we have done once I reverted bodily back to the age of six? I can't imagine how torturous it must be for Lady Purah, trapped in that little body with her century-old mind: maybe that's why she teases and makes so many jokes. I know, despite her teasing, she is very fond of us all. Symin could not help but tell me so in confidence. I think he was worried she might upset us with her frank way of talking.

I am quite finished with my emotional outburst, and I feel slightly better, although there is a horrible taste in my mouth. I sit up, shuffling away from the mess, and draw myself slowly to my feet. I kick dirt and dry leaves over the pile to disguise it somewhat, and leave the offal where it is. Predators or Bokoblins will make short work of that.

I walk gingerly back to the village with my small sack of meat, and although I feel the heaviness of the recent events about my shoulders, I cannot beat the exhilaration that came with the feel of the Princess's lips on my wasted skin: I can barely feel anything on the backs of my hands after my accident, but I could feel the warmth of her breath against my fingers, and I know now that she accepts me, broken as I am.

Is there any greater feeling? It is like climbing to the highest summit: the struggle pushes you to your limits, but then there is the sense of accomplishment, and the view. And there is no view as beautiful as a smile from Princess Zelda.

I wash off in the village stream, and I cook my steaks: the smell of food thankfully makes me feel hungry rather than sick. It is time to make preparations to leave, and so I head back up the tall staircase to Impa's home.

Paya is the picture of quiet dignity, putting the rest of us to shame. I thank her deeply, turning my head so as to spare her my foul breath.

"How are you?" she asks.

"I'm just fine, but what about you?" She looks calm, although I still saw how affected she was by what her aunt had to say. "Are you definitely going to be alright here on your own?" I take her warm hand. "I will stay longer, if you need me. Please, you only have to ask."

"Oh, Link," she says, laughing. "You've got to go. Please don't put your duties off any longer."

"I don't mean to put anything off," I explain. "I want to make sure you're well. Her Highness would completely understand."

Finally, she closes her eyes: two round pearl-like tears fall onto her cheeks and roll steadily down. I press her to me fiercely, protectively, and she shudders into my chest. I haven't seen her cry like this before: during our time training together, she cried only once when I charged her and badly winded her. I felt awful for at least a week afterwards.

"I'll promise I'll be fine," she says, stopping her tears with long, steady breaths. "I promise to take some time to grieve, and then I will continue with my trials. I am so close to finishing, and I know I will succeed. I have the best teacher in Dorian, and the best support from you. Link, I would never have done it without you here."

"Yes, you would," I urge her as she stands back, her face reappearing. "I know you would have done it. And you know you've always got my support."

She sighs and rubs her face against me.

"Careful there. I'm covered in gore."

"Disgusting," she says with a laugh, her face re-emerging. "Don't forget to clean under your fingernails: you work at the palace as of right now. And don't be offended, but I'm going to give you a herb to chew, your breath smells like a dead animal."

I cover my mouth with both hands, ashamed, as she turns and rifles in a little pot on the mantle. She hands me a thick, ropey-looking herb. I post the whole thing in at once, and freshness floods my mouth as I chew.

"You're too good, Paya," I say thickly. The herb is making my tongue and gums tingle, and the nasty taste is leaving.

"You're taking that Knights' charter you've been reading, aren't you? Grandmother left it to you in her will." Paya remembers, and picks up the book from Impa's desk. I take it, confused: _didn't she just bequeath me the Sheikah slate?_

"Thank you," I say. I stash the book in my sack, away from the hot food. "Is there anything I can do in return?"

"Actually…" She thinks for a moment. "Yes. Please continue to write to me, and I'll write back. You'll know the moment I complete my trials, and then I would like to come to the village. One of the things Grandmother wanted was for me to take her place at the Castle, as the Princess's right hand: she may need me, especially after she is married. I'll come and offer my services, whether she and Sidon are-"

I look away, and she catches my cheek and turns my face back to hers. "Oh, Link! You can't wear your heart on your sleeve like that; every time someone mentions the Royal marriage, which they will in the village, _a_ _lot_ , you can't react like a kicked pup. _Especially_ not in front of the Prince."

"He _knows_ ," I tell her, weighting my words with meaning.

"I _know_ he knows," she answers. "I knew you would do the right thing."

"Wow," I say like a fool, surprised at the sheer amount of credit she has given me.

"Don't hang around here on my account, Link," she says, letting me go. "I've got a lot to do, and so do you. The Prince and Princess are already gone, and you shouldn't really be too far behind them. Khalil is all ready for you: I had Cado bring him down and load him."

"I can't thank you enough," I say, taking her hand again and accidentally swallowing my herb. It tickles in my throat. "You, and your Grandmother, and I suppose your aunt."

Paya laughs. "You'll see me soon; so soon that you'll likely get sick of me."

"Not possible," I say, squeezing her hand. "Anything you need, put it in writing."

* * *

 _A/N: My HUGE apologies for such a long time between updates: I moved house over the festive period and our computer did not take kindly to it. Thankfully I haven't lost anything except a few plans for the rewrites, but nothing I can't catch myself up on! I've a clear idea of where everything is going, and while I'd like to promise a return to regularity, I'm expecting a baby in the next week or so, so there might be another brief period of quiet._

 _Has anyone played the Champions DLC yet? I haven't and I'm excited! (I doubt the plot of it will change my storyline here, because that way doth madness lie.)_

 _A big thank you to all who been reading in my absence, and/or have left a review. Honestly, thank you. - Neet_


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